


The Catar

by Silverfox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-15 23:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 165,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16073882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfox/pseuds/Silverfox
Summary: AU Two Catar set out to find their people who are nearly extinct thanks to the Knights Templar. In order to defeat Voldemort Albus Dumbledore just might need both the Catar and the Templars. Might be unsuitable for the very catholic.





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine, I just like to play with them for a little while.

Notes: Well, here it is. The long promised Catar fic. Silverfox does keep her word.

 

THE CATAR

 

Prologue

 

Raven bounds through the forest enjoying the rush of the air against his fur and the feel of the earth under his paws. Here he is absolutely free. None of the constraints of the human world can tie him down as he jumps over tree trunks and slinks through bushes.

A low hanging twig across his path twitches as a bird takes flight out of its bush and Raven gives in to temptation and lounges for it like a kitten. His front paws grab a hold of the twig as he lets himself drop onto his back. A bite and then he lets go again only to bat at the twig with his right paw as it swings back up.

One more swipe with his other front paw shreds the twig’s leaves and Raven takes a moment to inspect and lick his claws. Not that a simple twig can do them any harm. They are magically enhanced to be strong enough to cut even steel. Little is safe from the wrath of an angry Catar.

Still Raven likes to feel the sharpness of his claws on his tongue, just as he likes the feeling of unsheathing them, allowing them to spring fourth from his paws, as he likes to feel the sun and rain in his fur, as he likes to race and jump and climb effortlessly through the forest, likes to play and jump out at anything that twitches ...

He rolls over again, back on his feet in a single fluid motion and takes off again in an elegant jump before a human could complete the turn.

A strong tree trunk in his way. A jump and out again come the claws and up, up, up until he reaches a strong branch that he races along.

Only about two metres from there is a similar branch reaching out from another tree. A simple push of strong hind legs carries him into the air and over and his claws grab hold of the other branch.

The softened sound of hooves on thick moss causes his ear to twitch. He stops to sniff the air. A centaur.

Another jump takes him back to the ground and he runs past the centaur with his tail held high. The stallion makes no move to challenge him. What are a centaur's hooves and teeth compared to the fangs and claws of a full grown Catar?

Laughable, that's what, thinks Raven, and the centaur well knows it.

Eyes gleaming with joy Raven runs on until another smell stops him in his tracks and steals the gleam and the joy.

Instinctively crouching low to the ground Raven listens, but there is no sound, just the faded smell of an old marking. He cannot feel their presence. No, they are not here now. If he wanted, he could go looking for them, sneaking into their territory on soundless paws, but no matter how softly he treaded they would still feel him, would feel the mark he wears before his own senses could warn him.

He should not enter here.

A quick spin and Raven takes off again back the way he came. It’s time to return anyway.

A bird in a bush. Raven's strong paw presses it to the ground before it can even cry out in alarm, but the claws remain sheathed. He is not hungry, not truly out to hunt. This is only play. Otherwise the bird would be dinner by now.

Almost back to the castle Raven stopps at an old tree to stretch and sharpen his claws on its trunk. In the back of his mind he wonders what Hagrid might think when he finds the claw marking.

It doesn't worry him. Hagrid must have seen his marks before, must have come across a paw print from time to time, but is the half giant aware of what kind of cat left those trails?

If so, he never reported it, or Dumbledore hadn't passed the report on to the rest of the staff. Else that cursed Templar would already be after him, would be searching the forest. Would perhaps have found the clan. The poor rest of the clan. He'd probably have been disappointed at the size of his catch.

 

Just out of sight of the castle he transformed back to his human form. His human looking form. He would never be human. A cat was a cat, because it had claws and he had claws no matter what form he was in.

On inferior human legs he walked the rest of the way to the castle. Slow and clumsy humans were. And serious. In his human form Raven had no room for games. In his human form he had to remain constantly in control. Not a single cat instinct could show through.

Hagrid greeted him as he walked past his hut, but he didn't stop to talk. He was already late for dinner. Maybe he should have eaten the bird after all, but they would miss him at the meal and he might miss out on some important last minute announcements of the headmaster.

"Oh, there you are." McGonagall caught him off at the door. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

With an inner sigh he fully forced himself back into his human life, the cat packed away into a corner of his mind until the next time he could manage to steal away for a little while.


	2. Chapter 1: Cat-Animagi and Founders Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Okay, don’t let the fact that canon is long past this confuse you. This is an AU set in third year.

Chapter 1: Cat-Animagi and Founders Dreams

 

Draco was staring out through the train window watching the landscape rush by. What might it be like to play in that forest, or live in that manor by the riverside? Or perhaps a townhouse in the town they'd just passed?

Right now what he wanted to do most was curl up in a quiet corner and sleep, though. He was terribly tired today, had been for the entire last week. Mother had even wanted to give him some pepper-up potion for fear that he might be coming down with a bad cold, but his father had stopped her. He'd been right, of course. There would have been nothing more embarrassing than to show up for his third year at Hogwarts with smoke coming out of his ears.

Still, it had been very nice of Mother to worry about him like that. Not many stepmothers were this honestly concerned for their husbands’ children from former wives.

Draco couldn't remember his real mother. He'd been only two when she'd died, but Mother treated him so kindly he thought he knew what it must be like to have a real mother.

He was extremely grateful for that. Especially since he'd heard how other women treated step-children. Or even nephews. If only half of the things the rumour mill said about that Muggle aunt of Potter's and her treatment of the boy were true, that alone was more than enough reason to love Mother like a real mother.

And Draco did. He'd do anything to protect her honour.

Right now he just wanted to sleep, though. Unfortunately it was rather difficult to sleep with five excited teenagers in the same room. Or train compartment for that matter.

"Don't you think, Draco?" Pansy's voice somehow managed to penetrate into his brain.

"Huh?" What were they talking about again? "Oh, whatever. I'm sure you're absolutely correct."

Silence fell over the compartment. Worried looks were exchanged.

"What's with you anyway, Draco?" Gregory asked after a moment. "You're not even listening to us."

Draco sighed, but turned to face them. His behaviour was very improper indeed. His father would scold him, if he knew.

"I'm sorry." he said. "I haven't been sleeping too well and now I have to fight to just stay awake. Guess I nodded off for a moment there and lost track of the conversation. What were you saying again?"

"I said it's terribly unfair that we have to switch teachers in almost every subject, just so stupid Potter doesn't have to." Pansy repeated.

She was wearing one of those tasteless pairs of earrings again. Big red hoops with little chains dangling down from them. The stones at the end of those chains were bouncing around with every move she made.

Draco just barely managed to subdue the impulse to make a grab for them. He loved playing around with everything bouncy, but it was among the worst things one could do in public according to his father. And pulling on somebody's earring was probably a very cruel thing to do on top of it. You just couldn't do that to your friend.

Draco was very glad that he wasn't a girl. Having a hole pierced through your ear had to be painful and he was amazed none of the girls had ever accidentally torn up her ear by getting her earring caught on something. How did Pansy manage to keep those large hoops safe?

"Why, we can't force poor little Potty to get used to a new teacher, can we?" he sneered. "But we can use this to our advantage. They can't possibly know exactly what we have and haven't learned last year."

"Oh Professor, we were just so behind schedule." Theo chirped fluttering his eyelashes at an imaginary teacher.

"Do you really think we'll get away with that?" Blaise frowned. "They're bound to get suspicious if the rest of the class can do it and we can't."

"Pansy will warn the girls of our plans." Draco declared confidently. "And the Hufflepuffs will go along. They're so stupid they've probably forgotten it all anyway."

That caused everybody to laugh uproariously, even though they all knew it wasn't entirely true. Yes, Draco knew that Hufflepuffs weren't necessarily stupid, but they rarely told on others, so he felt safe with them anyway.

"What of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, though?" Blaise argued. "That Granger is such a tattle-tale."

"Ah, but the Gryffindors aren't switching teachers anyway, and who'd be surprised, if the Ravenclaws are ahead of their lessons." Draco smirked.

"My Dad said not to fool around with the Templar." Vincent warned. "He says he's dangerous."

"Yes, any hint that you're not deeply catholic and you're dead, my Mum said." Pansy shuddered.

Draco nodded. He'd heard all the same warnings. Especially his father had repeatedly advised him to be on his best behaviour in Religion from now on. Catholicism was ordered by the ministry, he'd said. Any word you said against it smelled of dark arts to them and the last thing the Malfoys needed was more suspicion of being involved in those.

"I heard he absolutely hates Slytherins." Gregory whispered.

"We're still the pagan house to him." Theo confirmed. "Just because Salazar was."

"Salazar Slytherin wasn't just pagan." Blaise amended. "He was a Catar high priest, about as high as you can get."

"What's a Catar?" escaped Draco. It had to be the tiredness. Normally he knew better than to admit to not knowing something in front of his friends.

"You don't know?" Gregory yelped.

"Shhhhh!" the others shushed him.

"Your father never told you?" Pansy whispered just loud enough to be understood.

Draco shook his head.

"It's dangerous to talk about it." Theo said just as softly. "He probably thought it was safest, if you didn't know in the first place."

"But you have heard of the old religion, haven't you?" Blaise asked waiving them closer.

They stuck their heads together.

"You mean the druids' rites?" Draco confirmed.

"Yes, among the Muggles there were the druids." Blaise whispered. "But our kind, we had the Catar to lead our rites."

"So they were a pagan wizard order." Draco realised.

"More than that." Blaise whispered eyes aglow with excitement. "To the outside they pretended to be ordinary druids, but in truth they are much more than that. The Catar are a magical race in their own right. They can change into huge cats. The Templars even call them werecats and consider them dark creatures, though they have next to nothing in common with werewolves."

"They're more like animagi." Theo agreed. "Change at will, not by force of the moon."

"Not animagi." Blaise shook his head. "Animagism is learned. You can become an animagus, if you just try hard and long enough, but you can never become a Catar. You have to be born one."

"So Salazar wasn't even human?" Draco realised with a touch of shock. "His pictures all look perfectly human."

"I told you Catar have two shapes." Blaise insisted. "One is a cat and the other is human."

"They're great at silent and wandless spells." Gregory stated wistfully.

"And they have all that ancient knowledge of nature spirits and elemental ghosts." Pansy added. "They control fire with only their minds."

"But where are they, then?" Draco asked. "Why have we never learned about them? Are they all dead? What happened to them?"

"No," said Blaise even more softly then before. "No, they are not dead. They are in hiding, masquerading as humans, because the Templars are hunting them. When Catholicism took over they were persecuted just like the druids. Their sacred groves and glens defiled, their names slandered and entire clans slaughtered in the name of the new god. If they catch a Catar they still burn him with magic fire as they used to do with those that followed the old beliefs as well. But the Catar are still there and one day they will come back and free us from the false faith. Until then we must hang on and pretend just like them. We must attend their mass and swear by their God, but inside we must never forget that that Muggle faith is not ours and that the Catar are the guardians of the one true religion of our ancestors."

So that was why the Templar was so dangerous, Draco realised. That was why his father was so afraid. Father too, must be a follower of the old religion in his heart, but he had never taught Draco any religion, because he was too worried that somebody might find out. He'd often said how Draco was too young to be trusted not to spill important secrets.

"But you mustn't speak to anyone about it." Pansy warned him looking scared. "All those mudbloods and many of the halfbloods have never heard of the old religion and even some purebloods have turned away from it and believe the Templars' lies. They're calling the old religion and all its followers evil and dark. They'd hunt us down and kill us just like they do the Catar, if they knew."

Draco shuddered as he tried to imagine what it must be like to be a Catar in these Christian days. Even back in Salazar's times Christianity had been the dominant religion, though there hadn't been any Templars back then. The Christian wizards had gone to Muggle churches with Muggle priests. It had been much later, after the crusades, that the Templars had become an exclusively wizarding order and the Muggle and wizarding church had separated when the Muggles had turned against them.

The British Muggles had created the Anglican church, while the Templars had kept the wizarding world catholic. Not an easy task due to all the Anglican Mudbloods coming in with every new generation, but the Templars were tackling that problem by mandatory Religion classes at Hogwarts. At least up until now Draco had thought that was the reason for those. Now he was beginning to wonder whether they weren't trying to catch the followers of the old religion just as much as re-educate the Mudbloods.

"What about the other founders?" he asked. "Were they of the old religion, too?"

How terrible it would be for them then, if they could see how their school had been turned into an instrument to destroy their faith.

"No, officially at least they were all catholic." Blaise answered him. "But only Rowena seems to have been truly devoted."

Blaise, for some reason Draco just didn't get, was fascinated by history. It was a bit strange, but Draco was glad of his friend's tick. Without him none of them would ever have passed their History exams. Not with Professor Trelawney always talking about the future instead of the past. Though, both seemed to be equally bloody.

"Helga appears to have been more interested in harmony between wizards than who was right or wrong." Blaise continued. "She wanted Hogwarts to be neutral ground where wizards of all religions could come together and get to know each other. Gryffindor, I'm not sure about." He shrugged. "He appears to have been catholic, but I've never read anything that would indicate religious motives behind his actions. He might have been faking it for appearances' sake."

"They probably wouldn't have founded a school together with a Catar high priest, if they'd been Catar-killing fanatics." Theo mused.

"I suspect Helga deliberately invited Salazar into the group as a gesture towards the followers of the old religion." Blaise commented. "You know, to assure them that they were welcome and would not be attacked."

"I wonder what Hogwarts was like in those days." Draco said feeling the tiredness overcome him again.

He leaned back in his seat to doze through the rest of the trip and tried to imagine a school where you could say right out what you believed, no matter whether the people around you thought the same or not. He imagined a friendship between four people of different cultures, races and religions, but still willing to overlook those differences and accept each other for what they were.

And he imagined changing into a big cat and bouncing after the colony of mice that lived in the dungeons of Hogwarts. Would Salazar have done that?

And if he ever caught a mouse, would he have taken it back to the teachers' lounge to scare Helga or Rowena with? Or would he have remained in cat form to present it to Lord Gryffindor with a proud purr? Would Gryffindor have laughed about such antics?

 

"Draco! Draco!" Vincent was shaking him. "We're almost there. Time to change."

In fact the others were already wearing their uniforms or in the last stages of changing.

"Mmmm, tired." Draco mumbled, but allowed Vincent to pull him to his feet.

Gregory started fiddling with the fastenings of Draco's outer robe while Pansy was trying to crack the lock on his trunk and get his uniform out for him.

"S' in my pocket." Mother had shrunk it for him so he could carry it with him comfortably and without wrinkling it. It spared him having to dig through his nicely packed trunk.

Vincent slipped a hand into each of his pockets, found the robe and threw it to Pansy who enlarged it while Draco slipped out of his outer robes. Gregory made a very bad valet. His huge fingers were much too clumsy. Still it was nice of his friends to help him.

"Oaf." he told Gregory fondly.

"Lazy dog." Gregory returned grinning.

"Cat." Draco corrected and yawned. "I want to be a Catar. Had a really nice dream about it."

"Shhhhh!" the others hissed.

"Don't let anybody hear that." snapped Theo.

"Well, don't you think it'd be cool to be able to turn into a cat?" He slipped into the uniform robe Pansy was holding out to him feeling more awake now.

"Then say you dreamed you were a cat-animagus, for Merlin's sake." Blaise hissed. "Nobody can fault you for that."

"That's a great idea." Pansy beamed. "It can be our secret code for Catar. Then we can talk about them without having to be afraid. People will think we're simply fond of cats and find animagi cool."

"Animagi are cool." Draco agreed. "But Cata ... cat animagi are cooler."

The Hogwarts Express was slowing down as it neared its final stop.

"Finished just in time." Vincent told Draco.

"Yeah, we didn't even get to tease Potter." Gregory pouted a little.

"I don't care." Draco declared. "I'm too tired to think up any good insults anyway."

"But I'd still have liked to play with the Gryffindorks a bit."

"Tomorrow." Draco promised. "When I'm less tired."

They got off the train under the watchful eyes of the aurors that had been protecting them on the ride and piled into a carriage this time with Millicent and Daphne squeezing in alongside them. It was a tight fit, but apparently the girls had had a row and simply couldn't ride a carriage together.

They’d been the last class of first years that had still ridden the Hogwarts Express without an auror escort, but they hardly remembered what it had been like. After all it had been only one single time. Then Lord Voldemort had returned during their first year and by the time they'd gone home for the summer the war had started and aurors or soldiers were everywhere. You stopped noticing them after a while.

Draco almost nodded off again while Pansy explained his plan for the new teachers.

"Not the Templar, though." Blaise warned. "We'll all be proper little choir boys for him."

"Yes, I heard he's terribly strict." Millicent agreed.

"Strict?" Daphne repeated. "He's downright creepy. Looks like he'd hang you, if he saw you walking into a church without crossing yourself properly."

"And he's got it in for Slytherins." added Theo.

"And cat-animagi." Draco muttered sleepily.

"What?" Daphne stared at him in confusion.

"Don't mind him. He's half asleep." Pansy assured her hastily. "Had some dream about being a cat-animagus on the train and now he's considering becoming one."

"Oh, do you think it was a prophetic dream?" Millicent asked eagerly.

Blaise snorted. "Draco a seer? Never."

Their laughter was keeping Draco awake. He frowned. Stupid friends. Couldn't they ever shut up?

He felt oddly dizzy when they got off the coach and walked into the great hall. There was some much too strong and suffocating smell in the air that he couldn't identify, but that made it seem too thick to breathe. Draco tried breathing through his mouth, but whatever it was didn't taste much better either.

He stumbled and Greg caught him.

"Man, you've got to be really tired, if you can't even walk straight anymore." he commented.

Draco just nodded and let Greg steer him to the Slytherin table. He needed to sit down. Then it wouldn't matter that he was dizzy.

The food would help, he told himself even though he wasn't feeling hungry at all. He needed to eat and drink and wake up completely, then he'd be fine.

He barely remembered to clap for the new Slytherins. Hopefully they weren't anybody important, because he hadn't paid any attention to their names and wouldn't be able to repeat them, if his father asked.

He forced himself to eat, but somehow the food all smelled wrong. Well, not actually wrong, but too strongly. And all the noise from the other students was making his head swim.

He really had to be coming down with a cold. Maybe he should head up to the hospital wing for some pepper-up after all. A runny nose was no more dignified than smoke coming from your ears and it was a lot more bothersome.

Then again he was still tired and the hospital wing was several sets of stairs up while his bed was just as far down in the dungeons. He could still get it in the morning after a good night's sleep.

Or maybe Professor Snape had some in his stores. He always held what the Slytherins called his 'doctor hours' on the first evening after a holiday anyway, so his door'd be open.

So Draco headed to Snape's office instead of the common room right after the feast. Most students looking for Snape's medical help would go to their dorms first, then sneak out while their friends weren't looking or make up some excuse. By going right away Draco could avoid the rush.

There was a fifth year already waiting in the corridor, but he just nodded at Draco and received a nod in return. You didn't ask people why they were attending the doctor hours. That was the very point of them. They were meant for those students who needed discretion for their ailments.

Most of them came with injuries inflicted by their own parents, Draco suspected. He knew some of his house mates were abused. You couldn't share a bathroom with people for two years and not notice there were whip-marks on their backs or unusually regular patterns of burns on their arms or legs.

The number of students who were punished with painful curses that didn't leave any visible marks was probably even higher.

Snape's door opened and a sixth year girl slipped out looking pale and worried, but she was clutching a potion vial in her hand, so Snape had probably been able to help her despite her unhappy look. Maybe she was just worried, because she'd need to take another dose of the medicine and feared that her dorm mates would notice.

The fifth year slipped in just as discreetly as the girl had come out.

Two nervous looking little boys arrived holding hands. They had to be first years, because Draco couldn't remember ever seeing them before.

"Is this Professor Snape's office?" one of them asked timidly.

Draco nodded in confirmation.

"The prefect said he'd help Andrew." the boy continued.

"I fell down the stairs." the other boy added quickly. "It's nothing really."

"His wrist's all swollen and red." the first insisted.

Draco glared at him. "You don't tell people about things like that. And Snape won't tell anybody either." he told Andrew. "He'll just give you a potion to make it better and nobody except the two of you needs to know."

"So why are you here?" the still unnamed boy asked.

"You don't ask people that!" Draco snapped. "How dim can you be? Haven't you ever heard the word discretion?"

The boy paled and hid behind Andrew. Not a particularly good choice, because Andrew was making himself as small as he could and wasn't a particularly big child to start with.

Luckily the fifth year came out a moment later and Draco walked into Snape's office.

"Draco?" Snape sounded shocked and surprised.

"Sorry to interrupt more important business." Draco tried to smile as cutely as possible. "I was just wondering whether you happen to have some pepper-up potion on hand. I'm just too tired to deal with Pomfrey right now."

"Pepper-up?" Snape almost smiled. Somebody who didn't know him very well would probably have missed it, but Draco, like most Slytherins, had learned to read the Potion Master's expressions by now. "That's not something I get asked for often, but I just might. What do you want it for?"

He gestured towards the students' chair at his desk and with a sigh Draco sat down. He hadn't expected Snape to bother with questions when asked for such a harmless potion. Not while there were much more serious cases waiting for him.

"I think I'm coming down with a bad cold." he shrugged. "I'm really just too lazy to go to the hospital wing and thought this would only take a minute."

Snape leaned down on the desk to peer into his eyes, then felt his forehead.

"You don't seem to be running a temperature." he stated. "What makes you think you're developing a cold?"

"Mother suggested it." Draco admitted. "Because I've been unusually sleepy for days and I'm beginning to get grumpy and feel dizzy occasionally. Nothing much. It's just annoying."

Snape checked his eyes again, then slid his fingers along the underside of his jaw. "You don't look like you have a cold, more exhausted. Have you been sleeping enough?"

"Too much." Draco told him once again. "But only about an hour or two later I feel tired again."

Snape regarded him thoughtfully.

"Well, it might be the very early stages of the flu." he decided finally. "But do see Madame Pomfrey about it, if the pepper-up doesn't cure it."

"I will. Thanks!" Draco quickly downed the potion Snape handed him and left.

He felt better right away. No more tiredness or dizziness and he could breathe once again. The whole world seemed to lighten up and he almost skipped back to the common room.

"Help, a volcano!" Vincent greeted him when he entered their dorm.

"Where'd you disappear to?" Theo asked smirking at the two columns of smoke rising above his head.

"Snape's." Draco answered. "Found out that he treats colds as well, not just 'stairfalls' and duels."

"Oh?" Blaise was looking at him over the rim of a book called Everyday Life in the Days of Merlin.

"Just wanted to make sure I'll be fit for Potter-baiting tomorrow." Draco grinned at them all.

"And, did it help?" Blaise asked.

"Oh yes, I'm feeling downright hyper now." Maybe he should have told Snape that he tended to overreact to some potions, especially pepper-up.

 

Severus Snape dropped back into his chair and sighed when no new student came in. Seventeen in one day. That was almost a new record. Were the Slytherin parents becoming more abusive due to the war or was it just that their children had become more willing to trust him with their shameful secrets?

Five cases of abuse through magic, four victims of magic-less torture. Another four students hurt fighting on the train, one boy with an itch in a very private place that he refused to show to a female nurse no matter how experienced she was and one unintentional pregnancy. And one Draco.

It had been a nice change to have a student come to him with an actual illness, but it worried him a little. What if Draco told the others and the Slytherins started to take all their health problems to him?

Up until now he had only treated students for problems they wouldn't have taken to the nurse anyway, but if the number of visits to the hospital wing dropped severely, Poppy was sure to notice and investigate. When she found that it was the Slytherins that stopped coming, she'd take the problem to him and then he'd have to either let her believe that the children were going untreated, which was sure to cause her sleepless nights, or admit to what he was doing.

And then what? How would she react?

Severus had always had a talent towards healing and had learned a lot from his mother, but he wasn't a certified healer, nor had his mother been for that matter. He shouldn't dabble around with patients that would normally go to the well trained and experienced nurse.

She'd probably understand that he couldn't force the abused children into seeing her and didn't want them to go without help either, but a case of the flu was her territory. And what if she took the matter to Albus? The headmaster was very indulgent, but Severus had been pushing the line with him for years. Sooner or later his patience would run out.

Severus sighed and pushed the thought aside. Instead he got out a needle and his smallest pair of tweezers, pulled over a candle and started poking at his right pointer finger. There appeared to be a splinter in there, but he'd been unable to find it so far and all salves and potion baths had failed to draw it out. If things continued like this he'd be needing Madame Pomfrey's help to remove it and he didn't like letting healers too close to his fingers. You never knew what they'd get up to.

 

"... and we can't possibly allow the students to skip mass as often this year. It's a disgrace. I worry for their immortal souls, Albus. We need to install proper controls and punish the offenders."

Albus Dumbledore watched his Religion teacher pace and rant and wished he could be elsewhere. He'd even be willing to trade places with his Potions teacher who was no doubt suffering through the sight of yet another horribly abused child’s wounds right now, but at least doing something useful.

Yes, Albus knew about Severus' unofficial praxis. Knew and quite approved. Severus' methods of dealing with his Slytherins' problems were unusual perhaps, but certainly effective. Severus took his head of house duties seriously and sometimes quite a bit beyond the line of duty, but oh, how those children needed it. Albus only wished Severus would dedicate just a little of that love to the other houses as well. Did he have to scare them so much?

Right now he had to deal with another student-terror, though, and a much more difficult one, because unlike Severus Sir Fulko Saint-Aignon really could get dangerous.

Severus just scared the children. Quite intentionally, but with no intention to ever do them any physical harm. He was a good man at heart, Albus was convinced.

Sir Fulko on the other hand was a fanatic and backed by very powerful other fanatics. Unlike Severus Albus couldn't fire him and speaking his mind in front of him was politically unwise.

"I do see your point, Fulko." Albus declared diplomatically. "And share your concerns, but we must not forget that we are dealing with teenagers. That age group just doesn't respond well to restrictions. They are at that rebellious age where the more you try to push them in one direction the less they are willing to go there. If we try to force them into church, we might be able to win back a few lost sheep, but others will start to see church as a chore that is forced upon them rather than their salvation. They might attend mass as long as we make them go, but they will do so with resentment in their hearts and might turn away from God entirely once they have finished school. They are beyond our reach then. Please, understand that it is my firm belief as an experienced teacher, that it is better for those young souls to let them find their way to God of their own choice."

"But what of those that don't?" the Templar demanded angrily. "I know that it's hard for you to believe, because these things are hidden from most eyes, but there are still blasphemers out there who strive to guide young, trusting souls down the devil's path."

"Now Fulko, I am aware that the Anglican sect is an errant path indeed, but surly it has not strayed from the right path so far that our forgiving Lord would truly let those souls fall into the devil's claws."

"It is not the Muggleborns that persist in their Anglican aberrations that I was referring to." Sir Fulko Saint-Aignon snapped. "They are an obvious problem we are all aware of, but at least they do attend mass regularly, even if their services are not conducted by proper priests. No Albus, hard as it is to believe, there are still unbelievers among our own kind. Wizards of high standing and old blood who lead their own children into devil worship. There are still werecats out there practising their evil rites for misguided wizards, Albus. We must free their children from that satanic influence so they can guide us to these monsters that we may free the world of them."

Albus shuddered and hoped that the Templar would interpret it as disgust at the thought of people still practising those rites rather than at the memory of just what the Sir Fulko meant do to them, once caught.

"And the problem remains that force is not the way to win teenagers over." he argued. "Especially ones that are already set against us by rebelling parents. We might even increase their numbers if we drive more children into rebellion and with every auror and soldier needed to fight the death eaters, who could we spare to hunt down Catar?"

"It has always been the Temple's first and foremost duty to fight paganism." Sir Fulko reminded him proudly.

"Yet, if Voldemort wins this war all of our world will deteriorate into evil." Albus held against him. "We need your help to fight off that personification of the devil himself before there is nobody left to save from the Catar."

"The Catar are just as dark as your Voldemort." the Templar stated. "Maybe even darker. It might well be that their servants are the very same that serve him."

"There's a thought." Albus realised. Indeed both Voldemort and the old religion attracted the old pureblood families. "Didn't the Catar always frown upon the more human type of dark arts which Voldemort practises? If we could get them to preach that, their followers would have to choose between their religion and their politics. An alliance with the Catar might bring a lot of them back to our side."

"An alliance with the devil?" the Templar shrieked.

"No, merely his tools." Albus amended. "Hogwarts was originally built by a co-operation of the true faith and the Catar, if you'll remember. Maybe a similar arrangement can save the wizarding world now. I'm not asking you to befriend them, Fulko, I merely intend to grant them free passage as long as they will not harm any of ours. A sort of seize-fire."

"They cannot be trusted, Albus. Mark my words."

"And perhaps we too can find some middle ground that will alleviate both our concerns." Albus continued ignoring the warning. "What do you think of waiving the demand to attend Sunday mass in favour of assigning detentions to students who do not attend mass at least once a week? A lot of students who prefer to dedicate their Sundays to Quidditch practise or Hogsmeade trips might be convinced to attend on a weekday instead. Then the chapel would no longer be overcrowded on Sunday and almost empty the rest of the week either."

"Sunday is the day of the Lord."

"I'm sure he'll be happy, if students dedicate another day to him rather than none at all."

"Very well." Sir Fulko finally gave in and marched to the door. "I doubt the werecats will come anyway." he threw over his shoulder as he walked out.

Albus sighed deeply. The Catar might be the one thing that could save them now.

It was almost two years since the war had started up again and at first glance it was at a standstill with both sides equally matched and neither able to gain the upper hand, but if you looked more closely the Death Eaters were very slowly pushing the Ministry back step by step. If nothing changed the war could go on for years, even decades, but in the end Voldemort would win. They needed all the help they could get.

But how to convince the Catar to come out of hiding and collaborate with the very people that had driven them almost to extinction?

In fact, convincing them mightn't even be the biggest problem he faced. After all he didn't even know how to contact them in the first place. The Catar were hiding and hiding well. In over a hundred years of life Albus had never even met one, so how was he going to find one on short notice now?

He had a feeling the Templars weren't going to prove very co-operative, and even if they did the last thing the Catar wanted was to be found by the Templars.

As if juggling the co-operation of the right and left wings of the Ministry while keeping them from killing the werewolves and the Centaurs from walking out on them again wasn't difficult enough already.

Well, maybe someone in the Order of the Phoenix knew a Catar.


	3. Chapter 2: New Teachers and Disappointments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: My dear friend Iremione, I know I’m being mean to Hermione, but it was your remark when I suggested Neville as Harry’s best friend that put me up to this. I just had to try it and see how Hermione would deal with the situation. Hope you’re not too angry with me. (I swear she isn’t going to date Ron in this AU at least.)

Chapter 2: New Teachers and Disappointments

 

Draco was still a little tired when they went to breakfast the next morning and then they only caught a glimpse of Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom already leaving the great hall.

"Damn." muttered Gregory. "We missed them."

"We'll catch them at lunch then." Draco decided distractedly.

The porridge smelled funny. Maybe the milk had gone sour? Draco shrugged and opted for ham and eggs instead, even though he wasn't particularly fond of it.

"Weasley and his girlfriend just came in." Vincent remarked. "We could start with them."

Draco frowned and shook his head. No, he didn't feel like playing with the Gryffindor class-clown and know-it-all. Ron Weasley was just too easy and Granger wasn't worthy of his attention.

The two Gryffindors were a weird pair anyway. Despite his occasional jabs about it he knew that they weren't dating, just friends. Why Hermione Granger, the brightest witch in their year, despite her Mudblood status, was best friends with the most stupid Gryffindor Draco had ever met was beyond him, though. Surely Granger could have done better than that.

She could, for example, have attached herself to the Potter-Longbottom duo quite easily. Draco had noticed how they, particularly the forgetful Longbottom, often sought her advice in class. A simple offer of free tutoring for Longbottom should have opened the door for her quite easily.

Or, she could have hung out with the other Gryffindor girls. A little whispering and giggling seemed to be all that was needed for a girl to join Patil and Brown's club of friends.

Instead Granger spent all her time trying to teach Ron Weasley basic manners. She'd been doing it for two years now, but he still needed to be reminded not to slurp his soup at every meal.

"I guess she must like a challenge." he decided.

"Who?" Blaise asked looking up from his pancake.

"The know-it-all." Draco explained. "She still hasn't given up on teaching Weasley how to hold his silverware."

"Well, the class work certainly doesn't appear to be taxing enough for her." Theo commented. "Maybe she keeps him as a reminder what it's like to fail."

"It's the only possible reason." Draco confirmed pouring himself some more pumpkin juice. Even that tasted too sweet today, but he was thirsty and the teapot was already empty.

Professor Snape came by with their time tables.

"Feeling better today?" he asked as he handed Draco his.

"Oh yes, perfectly fine." Draco smiled at him gratefully. "It must really have been just a cold."

"Hey guys, we've got History first." Blaise beamed. "I wonder what Professor Binns is like. Can't be any worse than Trelawney, can he?"

"And Religion right after that." Theo frowned. "Do you think Pomfrey would believe me, if I told her I caught Draco's cold right at the end of History?"

"Even if she did, she'd just give you a dose of pepper-up potion and send you right on to class." Snape commented. "And Sir Saint-Aignon will think you're skiving no matter what you tell him unless you can prove that you're either bleeding badly or delirious. Kindly don't bring the inquisition down on me by attracting his ire."

"In other words Snape doesn't like the Templar either." Theo commented as soon as the teacher had walked on.

"Surprise, surprise." muttered Pansy. "Most likely even the other Templars don't like him and that's why they've assigned him to Hogwarts. It means they only have to put up with him for two months per year."

 

Binns was worse than Trellawney Draco decided less than a minute into the lesson. At least Trellawney had been able to read out the register. Binns was making his up.

That is Draco was quite sure that none of their Hufflepuff classmates had changed their names to Apple or Suchard over the holidays.

Indeed the series of mistakes continued with the Slytherins as Binns called for "Melissa Bahlsen, George Channel, Garfield Giocco and Dorah Goldfish."

"Oh, of all things!" Draco heard Daphne Greengrass groan to herself as Binns happily continued with ...

"Derek Mentos."

"I'm not Greek." he informed Binns.

"Oh, what a strange name for you to have then." Binns wondered and promptly moved on to: "Anya Mirabell."

"I hope that comes from 'admire' and 'belle'." Alice Mortimer confided to Daphne.

Theo Nott was soon turned into Thomas Nestle, Pansy became Penny Peppermint (The Hufflepuffs tried to console her with the weird comment that at least it wasn't Betty.), Estella Rushton tried unsuccessfully to refuse the name Elisabeth Raffaello, and Blaise ended up as Blake Zotti.

Draco decided that being turned into a Greek wasn't quite as bad as suddenly becoming a sweet and settled back for the lesson.

Binns started listing Goblin names and Draco dutifully wrote them down until a sudden thought caused him to drop his quill. What if Binns' Goblin names were just as correct as his student names?

Granted he wasn't reading them out, but Blaise wasn't taking any notes, so maybe he knew something. Maybe it would be better to get the list out of a book. If it wasn't in his History text, it had to be somewhere in the library.

Binns' droning was a veritable lullaby. Draco nodded off within minutes after stopping to write. Soon he was Salazar Slytherin again, this time curled up comfortably on a lush sofa while Godric Gryffindor was droning on about ... something or other of absolutely no consequence ... and absently scratching behind his left ear. Draco-Salazar purred happily.

 

"You were purring like a cat." Vincent informed him as they were leaving the class after the lesson.

They'd had to shake Draco awake when Binns had finally stopped droning.

"I was dreaming about being a cat-animagus again." Draco yawned. Great, thanks to Binns he was once again just as tired as the day before.

"That story really got to you, huh?" Theo grinned.

Draco shrugged. "I guess, I've just always wanted to be a cat. This just made me aware of it."

"Well, come on then Catboy." Pansy called. "I don't want to be late for our first Religion class with a real priest."

"You do realise that you can't become a priest yourself, don't you Pansy?" Draco laughed. "Though I don't see why you'd want that."

"And why is that?" a sharp voice demanded.

Draco whirled around to find Sir Fulko Saint-Aignon right behind them.

"Uh ... oh well, In order to become a priest Pansy would have to be a boy right?" he stuttered groping for a good excuse.

"And why would she not want to be a priest, if she were a boy?" the Templar glowered.

"Well ..."

"Because I'm an only child." Pansy saved him. "And if I were a boy I'd be obliged to continue the family line."

"Her parents are devastated that the manor house will go to Pansy's cousin someday." Draco lied. Actually the Parkinsons were quite fond of their nephew Roderick.

"Yes, I suppose you'd want to make your parents happy, wouldn't you?" Gregory nodded sagely.

"Probably." Pansy agreed. "But I'm not a boy and can neither continue the family line nor become a priest, so it's all quite beside the point."

"You could join a convent." the Templar suggested waving them on towards his classroom.

"Perhaps." Pansy said noncommittally. "But Mother keeps saying it's much too early for me to decide."

Draco thought she deserved an Oscar for her performance. If only he were as good an actor.

Sir Fulko Saint-Aignon seemed to have it in for Draco. Maybe he really did hate cat-animagi as well as Catar, Draco thought. He must have overheard his comment about wanting to be one at least.

Religion class dragged on apparently twice as long as History thanks to the fact that this time they couldn't just go to sleep. They reviewed the Ave Maria and Pater Noster in both English and Latin, then followed a quiz on the church year and religious symbolism.

"That was dreadful." Saint-Aignon announced finally. "I will have to have a stern word with Professor Harker. If it were only Slytherin, I could at least attribute the lack of knowledge to laziness, but even the Ravenclaws were disappointing. I expect you to review last year’s Religion texts thoroughly until next week. Then we will have a test to ascertain that you are on the required level. Yes, even you Mr. Malfoy!"

They fled from the room to find that the lesson had gone overtime and lunch had already started.

Draco stumbled to his usual seat in the great hall dizzy from all the questions the Templar had sprung on them.

"That went even worse than I feared." Theo groaned dropping into his own chair.

"At least you didn't have to make any career promises." Pansy retorted. "I might be forced to become a nun now."

"Nah," said Draco. "You can just fall in love with the wizard of your dreams and have a big, very catholic wedding. I bet Saint-Aignon will forgive you, if you ask him to conduct the ceremony."

"Ewww." Pansy frowned.

 

The day only got worse from there. After lunch they had Transfigurations followed by Latin, both of which they shared with Gryffindor.

It should have been the perfect time to have some fun with Potter, but Draco wasn't feeling up to it. Lunch hadn't agreed with him, probably because he'd been forced to wolf it down much too fast thanks to the late end of Religion. He was feeling sick and a little dizzy so he decided to just sit down and content himself with glaring at Potter and Longbottom.

Granger and Weasley seemed to have had a disagreement. They were sitting at opposite ends of the class and Weasley was looking demonstratively in the other direction. A familiar sight. Usually Weasley sulked until his grades got so bad that he had to ask Granger for help if he didn't want to fail.

This time his sulk put him right in the Slytherin center of the classroom, though. A situation that might have potential, if McGonagall ever left them unsupervised long enough to ...

Draco hadn't even finished his thought when Weasley's chair fell over.

"Mr. Weasley, how often do I have to tell you not to rock on your chair?" McGonagall seemed to have missed Theo's triumphant smirk. "Please concentrate on your button."

Draco gave Theo a thumbs up behind her back before turning back to the task of turning a button into a beetle. It should be easy enough, but apparently his upset stomach was affecting his performance. His button turned into a large black plate with a cat's-paw design.

"That is very beautiful, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall stated sternly. "But I'd prefer if you stuck to the set assignment."

"I was trying to." Draco tried to explain. "I just ... May I go to the bathroom?"

McGonagall glared at him, but then unexpectedly gave him a terse nod. "Very well, but if you don't return to finish this assignment I have to grade it a T."

Draco nodded and hurried out of the classroom. Why had McGonagall changed her mind? Did he look sick or something?

Another wave of dizziness hit him and he moved on trailing his hand along the wall. Luckily the bathroom wasn't very far from the class. He'd feel better once he got rid of the food.

In fact he already felt better once he only sat down on the toilet and closed his eyes for a bit. The bathroom was nice and quiet and Draco almost nodded off, but then the noise of someone slamming the door open woke him up again. There were noises in the stall next to his, running water and then the door slammed again.

He probably should go back to class.

A little cold water in the face helped clear his head, even though he was still feeling sick and he hurried out of the bathroom.

The corridor was full of students, so he'd missed the end of class.

"I'm sorry, Professor." he told McGonagall, for once honestly. "I must have eaten something bad."

He didn't expect her to be impressed. After all McGonagall was head of Gryffindor and hated Slytherins. He'd never gotten along with her.

"That's alright." she said to his surprise. "You can still do the assignment for an A on Thursday, though I won't grade you anything better than that."

"Thank you, Professor. That's very generous."

"Maybe you ought to go up to the hospital wing?" she suggested. "Some stomach soothing solution does wonders for an upset stomach."

"I don't think that's necessary." Draco decided. "I'm already feeling much better and I don't want to miss any classes on the very first day."

He picked up his bag and Transfigurations book and ran all the way to Latin class, but didn't manage to get there before Professor Stylus.

"Five points off Slytherin for being late and running in the corridors, Mr. Malfoy." the Latin teacher announced casually.

"Sorry Professor." Draco panted while the Gryffindors snickered and the Slytherins protested.

Maybe he should have explained. Professor McGonagall would certainly confirm his innocence, but he needed to catch his breath and his heart was hammering wildly from the effort of running.

He didn't usually have such problems after only a short run, but apparently all the dizziness had exhausted his body. He decided to go to bed early today. Only one more class to go after this and then he could take a rest before dinner. With a little luck all Professor Flitwick would do today was ask what they'd learned from Professor Calligra. Draco was good at Charms, so a few practical demonstrations wouldn't be too difficult.

 

Albus Dumbledore glanced over the assembled members of the Order of the Phoenix. Most of them looked tired, some downright exhausted. The war was taking a big toll on them all.

"Therefore I have decided to aim for an alliance with the Catar." he ended his speech.

Severus Snape's head jerked up in surprise and what Albus identified as worry. Ah yes, Severus had immediately realised the possible problems such an alliance would cause. Albus wasn't surprised.

"The Catar, Albus?" Minerva McGonagall asked.

"Yes Minerva, the Catar." he confirmed. "They are powerful fighters and have quite an influence in the very circles that Voldemort gains most of his support from."

"But ... but they're dangerous!" squeaked Minister Fudge and Albus once again asked himself whether it mightn't have been better to initiate another ministry representative as contact with the order.

Perhaps Madame Bones, or Mr. Scrimgeour. Both of them had more nerve than the minister at least.

"Albus believes that they would be even more dangerous, if they joined up with the Dark Lord." Sir Fulko Saint-Aignon explained gravely. "I do not like the idea either, though. It is an alliance with evil."

"Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire." Remus Lupin argued. "And they are at least able to control their transformations and use them for our ends."

His Lycantropy was mostly a hindrance, though it enabled him to gather information from other werewolves. Poor chap.

"But how do you plan to contact them?" Minerva asked. "Do you know where to find them?"

"No." Albus admitted. "I was hoping that one of you might have an idea. Fulko? Severus?"

Severus started. He was terribly jumpy today. The double workload of spying and teaching was really getting to him, Albus thought. Perhaps he ought to find a way to give him a few days off for recreation.

"Why me?" the Potions Master asked sounding surprised.

"Your house's founder was a Catar, was he not?" Sir Fulko demanded.

"That's true," Severus admitted, "But as I'm sure you've noticed he's been dead for close to a thousand years and I don't think you of all people would suggest an attempt at necromancy."

"You do have a lot of contacts with underground society, though." Albus stepped in before those two could get into a real fight. He'd seen what could happen if either of them lost his temper. He didn't want to know how bad they'd get when fighting each other. "Nobody that might know somebody?"

"No." Severus insisted. "The Catar are very secretive and have always kept their distance from the underground. All I know is that the information network between their clans was failing when they last made contact half a century ago. It might well be that by now they are no longer able to reach each other themselves. Perhaps our resident were would know, though."

"The werecats never thought very highly of werewolves, or of being referred to as weres in the first place." Remus defended himself. "As far as I know there never were any direct contacts between the two groups at all."

"The clans used to meet at Stonehenge." the Templar threw in. "It might be worthwhile to have it watched."

"And I suspect the Temple has been doing just that for years, hasn't it?" Minerva asked. "The Catar won't be foolish not to know by now."

"That's true." Sir Fulko admitted. "In fact we stopped watching it a while ago, because it hadn't yielded any results in years."

"That's useless." Albus decided. "I want all of you to ask your contacts. Put out word that we're looking for Catar. Maybe we can get them to contact us."

"I doubt it." Severus stated grumpily. "They know we're allied with the Temple. We are quite officially a Christian organisation. They won't risk it."

Albus sighed. Severus had a point there. No matter how much Catar hated dark magic, experience had to tell them that Christianity was even worse and what reason did they have to trust wizards? There'd been nothing but hatred and pain between the two races for centuries.

"We need them Severus." he said softly. "We're losing the war without them."

 

Severus retreated to his office to brood. He should check up on the Slytherins, he knew. It was well past curfew, though, so even the stragglers were probably in bed by now.

What he really should have done was visit the common room before curfew and spend some time with the first years. He usually inspected them on the first day to establish a base of trust and assess possible sources of trouble.

Much too late for that now. The children were sure to be fast asleep.

His finger was getting worse. It was constantly throbbing now reminding him that he'd have to see Madame Pomfrey soon.

Not now, though. She too was probably asleep by now. Severus wished that he could sleep as well, but there was too much on his mind today. Maybe he ought to just write to his great-uncle and ask him for advice? Neither Voldemort nor Dumbledore needed to know. His great-uncle was even less likely to tell anyone about the letter than he was to actually read it.

Severus snorted to himself while absently casting a cooling charm on his finger. Some help that would be.

At least the cooling charm helped a little.

 

At about the same time somebody else was having no compunctions about floo calling this late.

"Sir Fulko?"

"Ah, Grand Master. You have heard my news, I assume?"

"Indeed." the Grand Master confirmed gravely. "Dumbledore is too trusting for his own good, I fear, but his faith in the good in people is admirable nevertheless."

"Of course." Sir Fulko agreed. "It is not Albus I worry for, but the impressionable young souls at this school. Albus just won't see the danger the werecats represent for them."

"Yet, this alliance of his can work to our advantage." the Grand Master decreed. "We have discussed it in detail and believe that it is worth the risk. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. We might not be able to put a stop to their devilish work while Dumbledore's alliance is in effect, but we will no doubt gain hints about their number and hiding places. Perhaps even learn names and faces. We should be able to make good use of that information once we have won the war."

"Ah, but the thought of the young souls we might lose in this pains me." Sir Fulko bowed his head in mourning.

"Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good." the prior reminded him. "Don't forget all the souls that will be saved once we eradicate the Catar once and for all. It will be a glorious day for Christianity."

 

"What's our first class today again?" Neville asked after draining the last of his tea at breakfast.

"Religion." Harry frowned at his toast. "I really hate that class. What's so important about it anyway?"

"You're Anglican, aren't you?" Neville said glancing around nervously.

Nobody noticed that as Neville was always nervous, especially when in the same room as Professor Snape.

Harry shrugged. "Sort of. It's not like the Dursleys ever took me to church, or went there much themselves. Officially I think we're listed as Anglican, though."

Neville leaned in close to whisper into Harry's ear.

"I'm not catholic either, but the Templars still burn people at the stake if they find out." he confessed. "That's what Religion class is about. So we've got to be careful not to let it show."

"But what's the big deal whether we're Catholic or Anglican?" Harry asked. "Frankly, I don't even see the difference."

"Don't see the difference?" Lavender Brown yelped. Obviously Harry had been just a little too loud. "The Anglican church is devil worship. A sect leading you down the wrong path! It ..."

"All Harry was trying to say was that he doesn't know enough details about it to see where they went wrong." Neville assured her hastily. "We've never learned about it in school."

"And we won't." Saint-Aignon had come over. He had an uncanny knack for knowing whenever somebody was talking about religion. "I will not spread their blasphemous teaching to innocent minds."

"So how can we be sure we don't accidentally stray from the right path, Sir Saint-Aignon?" Hermione asked with that tiny touch of irony in her voice that always rankled the Religion teacher.

"You just do and believe as the holy order of the Temple tells you to." he snapped. "Then you can't go wrong. To understand and judge false teachings is for the experts who are well trained in the ways of god, not foolish children. Too big is the danger in that."

"Of course, Sir." Hermione lowered her head in submission.

"Why really," she snapped as soon as he had returned to the head table. "That guy is all about blind obedience. What an intolerant prick. How are we to choose our faith, if we don't even know all the choices."

"Leave it be, Hermione." Neville warned. "Nothing good can come of it."

"We're not supposed to doubt or choose." Ron threw in. "We must follow the correct path and he's here to show us the way."

"Well, what if he's wrong and somebody else, say the Anglicans, is right?" Hermione challenged.

"He's not." Lavender insisted.

"We have the pope to tell us what's right." Ron declared. "He represents God on Earth. His words and the Bible tell us all that we need to know."

"You shall not suffer a witch to live?" Hermione mumbled under her breath, but didn't argue.

"Hey look, there's Malfoy." Neville changed the topic. "And he still looks like hell. I wonder what's wrong with him."

"Probably allergic to holy water." Harry joked.

"Of course." Ron nodded earnestly. "Those Slytherin purebloods are all Satanists. Malfoy's probably part demon anyway. The result of some terrible werecat ritual in which their women offer themselves to the denizens of hell."

"Uh Ron," Harry started patiently. "He looks like an identical copy of his father."

"So his mother's the demon." Ron declared. "Or maybe both his parents are half demons and ..."

"Catar do not allow sex during their ceremonies." Neville stated with just as much conviction. "And they don't summon demons either."

"Who?" asked Hermione.

"How do you know?" demanded Parvati Patil.

"Oh," Neville hesitated groping for the least suspicious answer. "From my Gran. One of her brothers wrote a book about the times before Merlin and did a lot of background research about the old religion back then."

"What old religion?" Hermione looked fascinated.

"Ah, primitive blasphemous paganism." Lavender brushed off the question. "It's illegal."

"Well, Gran thought it was interesting. From a historical standpoint, of course." said Neville.

"Anyway, there wasn't any holy water in Transfigurations, Ron." Harry stated.

Ron had a tendency to come up with weird ideas that took Hermione's logic and a lot of patience to talk him out of. Harry could already see him try to explain to Saint-Aignon why he'd snuck into the chapel and attempted to steal a bottle full of holy water which he'd intended to poor over some unsuspecting Slytherin. The number of points that would cost Gryffindor ...

"He was probably just having trouble with his transfiguration and cut class to avoid a bad grade." Harry commented. "Maybe used one of your brothers' skiving snackboxes to make himself look so sick."

"But he's still looking sick." Neville observed. "And he hasn't bothered us at all, yet."

"Yes, he's up to something I tell you." Ron said. "You'd better watch out. He's trying to lure us into complacency and then he'll curse you with his demon powers and summon an army of death eaters to murder us in our sleep and then ..."

Lavender and Parvati groaned. Neville buried his face in his hands.

"You're an idiot, Ron." Harry stated without much malice. Ron, he'd decided back in first year, wasn't entirely right in the head, but mostly harmless.

"Now look at him, Ron." Hermione started patiently. "Do you see how pale and tired he is? See those black rings under his eyes? He's obviously not well. Most likely he just doesn't have the energy to spare to be a nuisance."

"I bet he has some really dangerous plaque that he intends to infect all of us with so You-Know-Who can get into the school and ..."

More groaning. This time Harry joined in as well.

"Oh yes," Ron snapped jumping up. "Go ahead and ignore my warnings. You'll be sorry when we're all dead and the demons have taken over."

Harry looked after him as he stalked off sulking once again.

"How do you stand being friends with him, Hermione?" he asked the studious girl. Shouldn't she of all people want a more intellectual companion?

Hermione shrugged. "Someone just has to watch out for him, I guess. He'd be lost without me. If I didn't remind him to study and do his homework, he'd never get anything done."

"Yes, just think of all the points he'd lose us, if left to his own devices." Neville agreed.

"Just be sure that he doesn't attempt to melt Malfoy in holy water or something like that." Harry said remembering his earlier thought. "Snape would definitely not be amused, no matter how ridiculous the plot."

"And in the condition he's in right now, Malfoy just might catch pneumonia, if forced to walk around in wet robes." Neville added. "Then Snape'd get really mad."

"And it'd be abuse of holy water, too." Lavender gasped. "That's probably a really big sin. Disrespectful towards God."

"I don't know." Harry calmed her. "After all Ron is God's creature, so he must know that he made him a little soft in the head. He'd probably understand that Ron didn't mean any harm. I'm more worried about Snape and Saint-Aignon."

"But what if Malfoy really is contagious?" Neville asked a little nervously.

"Then Madame Pomfrey will know to stock up on the cure as soon as he goes to see her." Hermione declared. "And who says he's really sick anyway. Maybe he just hasn't been sleeping well."

"Is that what I look like when I have my nightmares?" Harry asked slightly worried. He didn't like Malfoy one bit, but he didn't wish his Voldemort induced nightmares on anyone.

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "That's exactly what you look like."

"I wouldn't say exactly." Neville amended. "But very much like it."

"You're definitely not that blond, Harry." Lavender giggled.

Harry rolled his eyes at the girls. "Alright, I'd better get to class. Don't want any trouble with Saint-Aignon."

They followed him as they usually did. It was good to have so many friends who stood behind him.

 

"Should we go to mass today?" Gregory suggested on the way back from dinner on Tuesday. "Get it over with?"

The headmaster had taken the occasion to announce the changed rules about religious services over pudding. Maybe he'd hoped to sweeten the blow with chocolate cake.

"Nah, I'm much too tired." Draco refused. He'd never attended the masses in the chapel and didn't want to start now.

"We can't continue to skip mass, if the Templar starts checking." Theo warned. "He'll get suspicious and he doesn't like us anyway."

"Just not today." Draco pleaded. "Lets go tomorrow. Today I just want to sleep."

"You've got Quidditch tryouts tomorrow." Pansy reminded him. "And if you fly the way you did in class today, you'll never make it onto the team."

"There you see, I need to sleep tonight." Draco yawned. "I'd fly better, if I weren't so tired."

Actually he'd been dizzy again. Maybe it was the weather?

"You're awfully tired lately." Vincent observed. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"It's nothing." Draco told him even though he was getting a little worried himself. "Just need more time to adapt my sleeping rhythm to school life again. And those cat animagi dreams are quite addictive."

"Oh, did you dream about being him again last night?" Pansy cooed.

Draco nodded. "This time I was in the forest, though. With lots of other cat-animagi. We played catch in the trees."

"What climbing?" Vincent exclaimed.

Draco nodded. "In cat form it's really easy. Or at least it was in my dream. All I had to do was use my claws to hold on and withdraw them when I wanted to lift my paw."

"I wish I had such cool dreams." Gregory sighed. "I dreamed that I was terribly hungry, but had to go to Transfigurations and McGonagall screamed at me because my Charms homework was all wrong and then I had to do detention with Lupin, only he was really scary and turned into a huge dog."

"And then?" Pansy asked excitedly.

"Then I woke up and was still hungry." Gregory stated.

"Oh." made Pansy.

"I once dreamed I had forgotten my Transfiguration homework." Theo said.

"And?" Pansy asked again.

"And McGonagall never asked for it, but it was terribly scary. All through the lesson I was waiting for her to ask me to hand it in. I woke up drenched in sweat."

"Oh, what a nightmare." Blaise snorted.

 

At the same time two Gryffindors were having similarly serious problems.

"Mass?" Neville asked for about the fifth time. "We have to go to mass?"

"So?" Harry shrugged. "What's the big deal? All we have to do is sit through it, right?"

"But where and when is it?"

"An hour after dinner in the Hogwarts Chapel." Harry replied. "At least that's what Dumbledore said."

"And where's the chapel?" Neville asked. "I don't remember ever seeing one."

That was right. Harry vaguely remembered having been given directions in his very first Religion lesson back in first year, but he'd never needed the information and now couldn't remember.

"I think it was somewhere near the Ravenclaw common room." he decided. "We could ask Lavender or Ron. They're both very religious."

"And they might tell that we've been skipping for two years." Neville shook his head. "You heard what Ron thinks of my religion and he's not the only one. The Templars kill people for this."

Harry gulped. Surely Neville was exaggerating. After all Saint-Aignon kept going on about how good and forgiving God was. He wouldn't kill people in that god's name, right?

"How about Hermione, then?" he suggested. "She isn't catholic either, but she'd never dare break a rule. She's probably attended mass every week for two years, so she'll know where it is."

"And you're sure she won't tell?"

"She doesn't like being forced into changing her faith any more than you do. She'll understand."

"Can we at least tell her we're secretly Anglican, then?" Neville pleaded. "That's much less dangerous. They don't kill you for that."

"Alright." Harry agreed. "But I'm sure she won't tell."

Sometimes Neville was afraid of his own shadow, but Harry had learned to live with it. After all Neville was his best and first ever friend.

He could still remember very well how lonely and nervous he'd felt when he'd arrived on platform 9 ¾ for the very first time. He'd rolled his huge trolley down the platform, stared at the beautiful red engine and all the strangely dressed wizards and witches and tried to ignore his fears that he might not fit in here, that nobody would like a skinny boy with cheap taped glasses and too large second hand clothes. Then there'd been a sudden splat and a toad had landed on his trunk.

"Trevor!" somebody had screamed behind him and realising that this was obviously an escaped pet Harry had scooped up the toad and returned it to the frantic, slightly pudgy boy.

Neville had been very grateful and just as lost among all the strange children as Harry, but they'd both felt better now that they weren't alone anymore and had made fast friends.

Harry smiled in memory. Neville might be clumsy and insecure, but he'd been raised in the wizarding world and had known so much more about it. It had helped a lot to have a friend who could explain about moving portraits, how to eat chocolate frogs and how to correctly fasten ones robes.


	4. Chapter 3: Lots of Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Hm ... somehow my little experiment with Gryffindor sociology doesn’t seem to agree with Ron. Oh well, at least it’s keeping the other Gryffindors busy.

Chapter 3: Lots of Worries

 

He is climbing a tree again. A young cat out to explore and play. Inexperienced paws still clumsy at times, but he is getting the hang of it. This particular tree offers a very large side branch which grows straight enough to qualify as a wide road to his mind.

Laves flutter slightly in the breeze and instinct kicks in. It moves! Bat it!

He shreds a few before his conscience catches up reminding him that one should not wantonly harm life. The tree needs its leaves and they were quite beautiful before he clawed them up.

He bats at the next one with his claws drawn in tight and they swing more wildly as if waving in thanks.

He smils a cat smile, tail raised high as he bounds on towards the next twig and a bird flutters out of it with a frightened scream.

Hey, it moves! After it!

One huge jump, paws grazing tail feathers and suddenly he's in mid-air and falling. Foolish kitten to launch himself out of a tree like that! But it's not that high a fall for a cat his size and his reaction is more embarrassment than fright.

Preparing for a landing on his paws doesn't even require a conscious effort and ...

A yelp, an impact, tumbling, something moving under him, cloth and skin!

"Godric!"

"No Rowena don't!"

He blinks and draws away as much as he can while still entangled with the one he fell on.

A young man looks up at him wide eyed. He doesn't recognise the face. Definitely not one of the clan, so he's probably human. Wizard or Muggle? Judging by his clothes he seems to be a knight, but then the young Catar has never had any direct contact with humans before. They're getting too dangerous to allow inexperienced kittens to walk into their towns.

But now he's lying right on top of the human he just bowled over and that human has his arms around him holding him tight! Heart hammering he tries to convince himself that he's just been caught by reflex and the human will probably let go in fright any moment now.

"Oh ... oh my. That's ... I mean you are ... Are you alright?" the human stutters hands digging into soft fur scratching like he'd do a house cat.

"Get off him you monster!" A stinging hex hits his flank and he yelps in protest.

"Rowena, no!" another voice protests. "It's just a kitten."

He stares dumbly at the two human girls wrestling over control of what he assumes must be a wand.

Witches then, so the man is probably a wizard, too, which is good, he supposes as wizards are at least allowed to know about his kind.

"It's a Catar." the taller girl insists. "And it attacked Godric."

"Attacked? The poor thing fell out of that tree." the smaller one gains control of the wand. "It might be injured."

"He is a person." the man says, awed. "And that fur is beautiful."

He turns his face towards the man again. Apparently he is not about to be killed. At least as long as that Rowena doesn't get her way. The other two seem quite inclined to leave him alive.

He mewls an apology and rubs his cheek against the human's.

"Is either of you hurt." the shorter girl crouches down beside them. "I'm good at healing charms."

"Maybe a few bruises from the impact, but the claws only got my clothes." the man says and he suddenly remembers trying to steady himself by sinking his claws into him and lowers his head in shame.

"What about you?" the human pushes. "Are you okay? Can't you talk?"

He pushes back against the man's arms once again, more forcefully this time.

"Godric, I think he wants you to let go of him." the girl realises. "He probably doesn't like being held."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the man hastily draws back his hands and he jumps back and transforms.

"Hi." the girl smiles. "I'm Helga and those are my friends Godric and Rowena. What's your name?"

"L .. Littlepaws." he blushes.

Small paws in a kitten mean that he'll grow up into a small cat. How embarrassing to be named for that.

"Littlepaws?" she repeats incredulously.

"That's a nickname, right?" Godric asks. "I know you're supposed to have a human name."

"Cat-name." he admits. "My human-name's ...."

"Draco! Wake up, Draco! We'll be late for breakfast again."

Draco woke up with a start and looked up at Gregory. "What?"

"Time to get up." Gregory informs him.

"Another cat-animagus dream?" Theo asked from the other side of the room as Draco rolled out of bed grumbling.

"I just met Godric, Helga and Rowena for the first time." he admitted, then stretched. Much better. "I was about to introduce myself when you woke me up."

"So what? It was only a dream." Blaise remarked. "That's not how it really happened."

"Well, it might have happened that way." Draco pouted. It had seemed so real and it was such a funny way to meet your future best friends. "Maybe it did happen this way. What if I am having actual visions of the past?"

"Yeah, right." Blaise snorted. "Like you of all people would inherit the memories of the great Salazar Slytherin."

"Maybe he left some kind of magical diary." Draco insisted. "And it plays itself out to chosen students."

"And why would you be chosen?" Blaise challenged. "You're only human. Salazar was a proud Catar, a high priest and head of his clan. He'd have at the very least picked another Catar, more likely a descendant. You're nothing."

It hurt to have to accept that it was all just a figment of his own imagination.

 

His third year boys were later than usual for breakfast again and Draco still looked exhausted. Was the boy sneaking around at night again? Or had he simply been reading in bed? Too much Quidditch training?

Or was there something seriously wrong with him? Perhaps he should send him to Madame Pomfrey just to be sure, but then he'd have to take his own advice and show her that throbbing finger.

Maybe he should do that anyway. He thought he might have a slight fever already, though he hadn't checked. Clearly this splinter wasn't coming out on its own and it grew less and less likely that he'd be able to pull it himself.

Screeching and fluttering announced the arrival of the morning mail and Severus looked up to make sure none of the owls landed in his food. He needn't have worried, though. A ministry screech owl was headed for the head table, but looked to be targeting Minerva McGonagall's teacup rather than his plate. Most likely Minister Fudge requesting assistance from Albus again.

The rest of the owl flock descended upon the student tables except for one brown bird that kept a certain dignified distance from all the others. Nobody seemed to notice the common barn owl, though it stuck out to Severus' eye. He didn't see birds like this one often.

There were lots of barn owls in the flock, of course, but this one wasn't an overweight pampered student owl, or a drab dull feathered school owl. No, this one was slim and well muscled with well kept, but not over-groomed feathers and a proud gleam in its eyes that he'd never seen in an owlery bird.

'Wild thing.' his mind reported at first sight.

It waited until the rush had died down, then glided gracefully towards the head table and swooped into the small free space between Severus' and Remus' plates with the easy precision of one who was used to hunting for his living every day.

'If you miss, you don't eat.' Severus thought almost smiling at the bird. 'So you learn not to miss.'

He inclined his head in greeting and the owl lifted his leg and held out his letter.

"Thank you." he inclined his head once more, this time to express his gratitude.

Lupin held out a piece of bacon to the bird, but he only glanced at the werewolf down his beak and took off again.

"He did not do it for the food, Lupin." Severus sneered at the confused look of the DADA teacher. "Don't insult him."

"Every post owl ..."

"Yes precisely Lupin, post owl." Severus cut him off. But this wasn't a post owl. Somebody had borrowed him right out of the wild.

He waited until Remus had left before opening the letter even though he could barely contain his curiosity. The fact that it was delivered by a wild owl reduced the number of possible senders by quite a lot. In fact, all things considered it should have reduced it to zero as all the people he knew to be able to ask favours from wild birds had good reason not to contact him. Still the letter was here and clearly meant for him.

The contents came as a shock. Logically he should have expected this to happen someday, but his heart didn't want to believe it and even his mind was surprised he was even informed of the fact much less ...

"Headmaster?" he asked as casually as he could manage.

"Severus?" Albus smiled placidly.

"It appears that I will have to take a day off tomorrow." Severus said still casually. "Family emergency."

"I thought your family kicked you out for your involvement with the Dark Lord." Minerva stated sharply. It wasn't a question.

"As far as I know all of Severus' close relatives are dead, Minerva." Albus chided. "Distant family then, I suppose?"

"My grand-uncle. A grandfather's cousin to be exact. Apparently he saw fit to mention me in his will, so I believe it appropriate to attend his funeral." Severus glared at Minerva. "He may have been a very distant relation, but I used to quite admire him in my youth."

Callisto Calligra grinned. "Does it say what he left you?"

"No," Severus snapped. "It does not."

"Oh, maybe you've inherited a big manor house. Just imagine!"

"I doubt it." Severus sneered her down. "He wasn't a rich man and I as I said am a distant relative."

"Maybe he had some old potions books or equipment that none of his closer friends and family would have appreciated." Filius Flitwick suggested.

"Quite possible." Severus agreed.

Let them believe that, he thought. It was as good a story as any other he could have come up with and what he had really inherited from the man who had cast him out so long ago was none of their business.

Come to think of it books or cauldrons would have been much more useful than the empty honour of being head of a family consisting of only himself.

The old man's death meant that he was truly alone in the world now, but in fact he'd been alone for many years now, so it didn't really make a difference in his life. Perhaps it even freed him a little to know that they were all gone and he no longer had to be afraid of their paths crossing by accident.

Why then did it make him feel so sad and empty?

 

Draco leaned back against the wall of the broom shed and stared out at the Quidditch field. He should be eagerly watching the tryouts, but instead his eyes wandered off over the grounds and to the edge of the forest. It looked so very much like the one in his dream.

Wouldn't it be great, if he really could turn into a cat and bound through those beautiful, tempting trees? His feet itched to just run off into the forest.

It was too dangerous, though. Too many creatures in there that were completely unimpressed by what little magic a thirteen year old wizard knew. A Catar, though, he suspected, was a different matter. Somehow it seemed obvious that nothing in the forest would particularly want a fight with even the half-grown kitten he'd been in his dream that night.

At least dream-Salazar had considered it a matter of fact that his claws could slice to bits anything that moved in that forest and woe to anything that dared attack him.

He tried to console himself with the promise that he'd be flying in just a moment, but somehow flying on a boring old broom just didn't get close to climbing a mighty tree on his own four paws. The thought was boring and he was tired again and when he looked up at the Quidditch players on the pitch black spots danced in front of his eyes.

Maybe he ought to just pack his broom away and return to the common room. He needed to practise that transfiguration for tomorrow, but if he managed that fast, he could go to bed early and maybe dream another Salazar dream.

"Draco! It's your turn. What are you waiting for?" Vincent hovered in front of him on his broom.

"I was just ... oh never mind." His father would be disappointed, if he lost his place on the Quidditch team, especially, if he did so without even trying. Father had always been so proud of his Quidditch skills when he'd been little.

Of course there was the chance that Father mightn't even notice. They hadn't gone to the Quidditch pitch together at all since he'd started Hogwarts. It was like he'd become invisible all of a sudden, except when Father was angry with him for some reason. Sometimes he wondered whether Father still loved him at all.

Well, the best thing he could do about that was strive harder to make Father proud. If he'd done anything noteworthy at school, Father would have had to notice him, right? Yes, it had to be because that Granger mudblood from Gryffindor always got the better grades and stupid Potter always beat him in Quidditch. If he managed to beat one of them, Father would be proud of him again.

Determined to do well for his Father he jumped onto his broom and took off, but the tryouts were tedious and he soon got dizzy again which caused him to miss several of the practise balls.

"What's the matter with you Draco?" the captain yelled after what seemed like an eternity in the air. "Are you blind?"

Indeed there were those black spots again.

"A little dizzy." Draco admitted. "I guess I'm just not in form today."

"Well, I can't use a seeker whose performance depends on whether he has a good day." the captain snapped. "Get out of the way then."

Draco shrugged and tilted his broom downward to land.

And suddenly his vision blurred, the contrasts between dark and light sharpened eerily and the sounds became very distant.

Draco clung to his broom wondering whether his legs would cave in when he tried to land on them. And which way was down anyway?

There, down was where the grass was shimmering in that strange metallic green. In fact that had to be a small hill and the black next to it its shadow.

He aimed for the hill concentrating only on keeping his broom in a straight line. Made it! He probably should have slowed down, because the impact with the ground jolted him hard, but his legs held.

He considered sitting down in the grass until this strange vision problem passed, but that would draw attention and then he'd have to explain and all he really wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.

The natural thing to do was take his broom back to the shed, then return to the common room. Common room was good, because his bed was there. Shed first, though. The broom wasn't allowed in the common room.

But where was the shed in this strange world of blurs, and flickering patches of colour? Looking around he found a rectangular brown patch with a dark roughly rectangular hole in it. Not just the shed, but that hole just had to be the door! And it wasn't even all that far.

His world narrowed down to himself, the shed and the fastest path between the two. It seemed to take much longer than usual, but once he was in the shed he could feel his way along the wall.

He dropped his broom into the first free holder foregoing the usual bristle check and waxing. Maybe he'd even damaged the bristles by throwing it in like that, but right now he just didn't care. All he wanted was to get into bed.

The brightness outside was blinding after the dark interior of the shed, but it also meant that he could see more again and he felt a little more steady now. The light grey of the castle's steps gleamed brightly at him outlining his next target.

"Draco? Are you okay?"

He didn't recognise the voice thanks to the distorted sounds, but judging by size and shape it was most likely Gregory or Vincent.

"I'm fine." he said. "Just tired."

"You don't look fine." Gregory or Vincent said. "You're all white. Do you want me to take you to Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, I want my bed. You just stay here."

Gregory or Vincent slipped an arm around him and Draco leaned against his strong shoulder. "How about I take you to bed then?"

"If you want to."

It was nice not to have to think about where he was going just move his feet and the way to the common room was longer than ever before anyway. Good to have Vincent, or Gregory, or whoever it was there to do the thinking for him.

 

"Oh, I've had it with that boy!" Hermione Granger slammed her book-bag down next to Neville Longbottom's chair. "Is this seat taken?"

"No, want to join us?" Neville smiled at her. "I could use some help with my Transfigurations essay, if you have the time."

"Sure thing, Neville." Hermione beamed at him. "What's the problem?"

Harry looked up from his Charms homework smiling as well. "Disagreement with Ron?"

Hermione and Ron quarrelled at least once a month, unless they still weren't talking from the last fallout and Hermione always fled into tutoring Neville while Ron sulked miserably at the other end of the room.

"I swear Ronald Weasley is the laziest and most stupid student in this school." Hermione declared. "But let him see how far he gets without my help. I'm sick of doing all the work for him."

"But I couldn't manage without your help either." Neville said miserably. "I bet I'm even worse than Ron. I certainly get worse grades."

"That's not true, Neville." Hermione protested. "You're a good student, just a little clumsy. And you always do your best, even if it isn't perfect. Other people," She glared at the corner where Ron was engaged in a game of chess against himself. "Think I should just write their essays for them."

"Oh, is that what happened?" Harry asked.

"Well, that too, yes." Hermione sent Ron another glare. "But the real problem is that he wanted me to participate the most harebrained scheme I've ever heard."

"Why?" Neville asked. "What's he up to?"

"Adding garlic and a crucifix to our next potion." Hermione sighed. "He thinks its sure to melt Snape when he checks our work."

"Garlic and a crucifix?" Neville asked incredulously.

"In a potion?" added Harry.

"Yes, and when I told him that I'd tell Snape if he really messes with the recipe, he called me a teacher's pet who's probably ..." She blushed. "Well, I really don't want to repeat what he said about me and a Professor at this school."

"Well, why did you threaten to tell on him in the first place?" Neville, ever the peacemaker, asked. "It's not like it'll actually hurt Snape. At worst we'll lose some points and at best Snape won't even notice."

"He's sure to notice." Harry disagreed. "At least that Ron messed up his potion."

"So Ron gets a failing grade on his next Potions assignment." Neville shrugged. "What do we care?"

"Don't you see?" Hermione yelped. "We have no idea what garlic or a holy object might do to that potion. It might explode."

"A crucifix doesn't do anything at all." Neville said without thinking. "It's just a bit of metal and most potions don't react with metals. Otherwise they'd react with our cauldrons."

"I don't think he's planning on using a pewter crucifix." Hermione frowned. "And there's still the garlic. I bet garlic does react with potions."

Neville dug out his Potions book and scanned the index of ingredients.

"It's not listed." he reported. "That means it's not an ingredient, right?"

"Wrong." snapped Hermione. "That's only a list of ingredients used in the potions in this book. The complete index of potions ingredients is a lot longer."

"Then lets check there tomorrow." Harry decided. "And if garlic isn't in it, we'll let Ron go ahead and make a fool of himself."

"And if it is?" Neville asked sounding a little worried now.

"Then we check out its properties and see whether there are any warnings concerning it's use." Hermione beamed. "You're a genius Harry. Why didn't I think of that. It has to be somewhere in the library."

"Well, what if it turns out that it can cause explosions?" Neville insisted.

"Then." Hermione said with determination. "We have to warn Professor Snape of Ron's plan. I don't like ratting him out, but his life is more important."

"Why does it have to be Snape?" Harry grinned. "Lets go to McGonagall or Dumbledore instead. They can always warn Snape for us."

 

"So, how'd the tryouts go?" Blaise let himself drop into the chair next to Theo.

"Gregory and Millicent made beater, but Deborah from fifth year got the seeker position." Theo returned. "Where were you?"

"In the library." Blaise shrugged off the accusation. "Reading up on those goblin rebellions Binns claims to be teaching us about."

"Claims to?" Pansy asked.

"Well, it can't be the same story." Blaise joked. "It's downright exciting in the books."

"I doubt it." Millicent frowned.

"I wrote you a summary. You'll just have to copy it before the test." Blaise promised them. "Where's Draco?"

"Asleep." Vincent answered. "I practically had to carry him there or he'd have dropped right on the pitch. Wouldn't go to the hospital wing, though."

"Maybe we should just drag him against his will." Theo suggested.

"If he doesn't want to go, leave him alone." Blaise declared.

"You didn't see him today." Theo shook his head. "Vincent isn't exaggerating. I really thought he'd faint any moment. What if next time he falls off his broom?"

"We can't just go drag him about the school, though." Pansy agreed with Blaise. "It's undignified. He'd hate us for it."

"Drag him to Snape?" Gregory suggested.

"That wouldn't be much better." Blaise shook his head. "But maybe we can ask Snape what to do."

"Not today, though." Theo remarked. "It's almost curfew."

"Tomorrow then." Blaise decided. "There probably isn't anything he can do today anymore anyway. I doubt he'd want to shake Draco out of bed."

 

He'd have to go see Madame Pomfrey before he left tomorrow, Severus realised. His finger was hurting with every movement by now. An attempt to push himself out of his chair with both hands proved that he couldn't put any weight on it.

Even picking up an object with that hand was painful, though he didn't even attempt to use the swollen digit. Somehow it got jostled anyway.

This was even a hindrance in teaching by now and he'd definitely need both hands tomorrow.

He stalled for a little longer, marking homework and then making a final attempt at removing the splinter himself, but finally decided to get it over with. If he waited any longer Madame Pomfrey would have gone to bed and she wouldn't be pleased to be woken up because of an actually minor injury.

If he'd been able to go untreated for this long, she'd tell him, he could bloody well wait another night. And he wanted to depart early next morning while everybody was still asleep. Who knew what kind of rumours it might start, if the students saw him leave.

He'd just reached the door when the summons to an emergency order meeting arrived. Great, now he could forget leaving early.

 

Minerva dashed into the headmaster's office with her hair still wet from the shower. She caught Remus staring at her open mouthed for a second, but none of the other occupants of the room seemed to notice.

Albus, of course, had seen her with her hair down before, she remembered and Severus probably didn't care one bit what she looked like. The Potions Master tended to concentrate on more essential things and this was an emergency after all.

The only other person in the room already was Fudge and he looked so dishevelled and beside himself that she doubted he'd have noticed anything short of a horde of death eaters marching into the room singing praise to Voldemort. ... Or maybe not even that.

"It's horrible, horrible!" Fudge exclaimed crumpling up his bowler as he tried to wring his hands without letting go of it.

The manoeuvre was physically impossible, though, so he suddenly dropped the hat and buried his face in his hands.

"What happened?" Minerva asked reminding herself that this kind of behaviour from Fudge didn't necessarily mean cause for worry. The minister was the kind of man who would go hysteric at the thought of stubbing his toe at election time.

"Terrible, terrible!" Fudge apparently decided that covering his face with his hands just wouldn't do and slipped them up into his hair instead. "What will we do?"

"Do any of you have an idea what the problem is?" Minerva turned to the others.

"Too low stress tolerance, I'd say." Severus replied with a completely straight face.

"Azkaban is under siege by death eaters." Albus stated. "A large army and with no chance for our side to sneak up on them."

Minerva let herself drop into the next armchair. If Voldemort took Azkaban he would not only regain all the death eaters imprisoned there, but also a lot of other prisoners who were probably only too willing to serve him in exchange for their freedom and possibly the dementors as well. Most likely the dementors as well. He certainly could offer them more food and freedom than the ministry.

The room quickly filled with nervous order members and after consuming two vials of calming draught Fudge was able to give a halfway coherent report of the situation.

It looked bleak indeed. The death eaters somehow had obtained a large fleet of ships and had them positioned around the island just out of reach of any spells cast by the Aurors stationed to protect it. All they had to do was prevent any supply shipments from reaching the prison and sooner or later Azkaban would have to surrender. Thanks to the fact that it was surrounded only by sea there was nothing a supply ship could hide behind. The death eaters would see it, or any approaching army coming for miles.

"Why don't we just apparate supplies in, or the people out?" Molly Weasley asked.

"Azkaban is warded against apparition, Molly." Albus sighed. "The prisoners might not have their wands, but what else would keep an outside accomplice from apparating in to help them escape?"

"Floo then?" Firence, who represented the centaurs in the alliance, suggested.

"Azkaban isn't on the floo network either." Auror Shacklebolt reported.

"In fact it doesn't even have any fireplaces that could be connected to the network." Moody added. "In case some criminal gains access to the floo center, or manages to create his own network."

"Blast them out of the way with a full scale attack." Charlie Weasley, that young hothead, of course.

"We don't have the manpower." Even Fudge knew that much. "If we draw that many of our fighters away from their current posts we can no longer guarantee the safety of other vital areas. I'd rather we lose the prisoners and some Aurors get killed in battle, than He Who Must Not Be Named overrunning the ministry."

"Your worthless ministry ..." Firenze snapped, but Albus stopped him.

"The number of civilian victims if Voldemort attacked during office hours would be frighteningly high." the headmaster stated. "Not to mention the demoralising effect it would have on the people. They see the ministry as the center of their defence. If it now proves to be unable to protect even itself, it might cause a panic."

"He could also choose to strike Hogwarts or St. Mungos." Severus added. "The children here would be valuable hostages and without the hospital we can't supply medical care for all of our troops, much less the civilians."

"Or they could attack the temple abbey." Sir Fulko Saint-Aignon threw in. "Do you realise the value of the sacred relics kept there?"

"I don't think he'd go after those." Severus said and Minerva was a little disappointed that he didn't add his customary sneer. Even the Potions Master treaded carefully around the arrogant Templar. "At least not at this point."

"History shows that an attack on the church is usually a bad idea." Albus agreed. "He'll want to cause fear, not outrage."

"Which isn't a guarantee, though." the Templar insisted. "We cannot leave the abbey defenceless. That'd be an invitation."

"I wasn't suggesting that." the headmaster stated. "Merely trying to asses the likeliness of the various targets."

"If we are talking about shock value, we shouldn't forget community centers like Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade." Moody warned. "They are difficult to guard as they weren't built with defensibility in mind and we can't just close them down, because the people need to be able to buy food and other vital supplies."

"What it all comes down to is that we need more manpower." Remus sighed. "Any progress with the foreign ministries or Catar?"

"The French are considering it, but aren't exactly eager to get involved in a war, if they aren't directly under attack." Fudge reported. "It would help if there actually were a death eater attack in France."

Minerva gasped. "Surely you aren't suggesting that we ..."

"Dress up some of our people as death eaters and have them attack the French minister, or blow up a building?" Fudge continued. "It wouldn't have to be a successful attack, or a building with many people inside. Just something to give them a little scare ..."

"No, Cornelius." Albus' tone was unusually stern. "That would constitute an act of terrorism."

"Even if it might be our only chance to win the war?" Shacklebolt asked. "It would save a lot of lives at the possible price of a few wizards."

"We must be willing to make sacrifices for the greater good." the Templar declared.

"A sacrifice of ones own life to protect others, as the Knights of the Temple are sworn to do and the sacrifice of the lives of others are two very different things, Fulko." Albus stood up and glared at the assembly. "We could send volunteers, but we cannot just assume that the people they kill would be willing to sacrifice their lives, if we had a chance to ask them."

"If we do that." Severus said, quite calmly. "We might as well give up the fight now and join Voldemort. After all, what is the difference between our side and his?"

"We are the good guys." Nymphadora Tonks answered. "That's the difference."

"And since when does the definition of good guys include deliberate murder?" Severus asked her.

"Let us hope that the French understand our need and decide to help us of their own accord." Albus broke the momentary silence. "Or maybe that the Catar join us in time to save Azkaban. For the moment I'm open for any other suggestions not including illegal or immoral actions."

"Shouldn't it be possible to sail through if we use an invisible ship?" Remus suggested.

"They say we should move in underwater." said the merpeople's liason.

The merpeople were unable to attend meetings in person as they could only communicate underwater, so they had nominated a young witch with a considerable talent for legilimency to relay messages mind to mind. It caused a bit of a delay, but was more practical than using runners, or bringing in a glass tank and having somebody stick their head in every few minutes.

"A bubble head charm would never last all the way from the shore to the island." Minerva shook her head. "And a diver could never carry enough supplies. We can't move an entire ship underwater."

"The Muggles have ships that can do just that." Remus commented. "I think they call them subs."

"Subs?" Moody snorted.

"The word is submarine." Severus sneered. "We would need to hire one with its Muggle crew, though as we don't know how to operate them. It will be difficult to explain just why we need to transport large amounts of food to a deserted island underwater."

"Then we'd best try placing invisibility charms on the supply ship first." Albus decided. "They might be expecting that, but we should at least try."

Sir Fulko stalked out looking slightly affronted after the meeting. Maybe he understood the definition of deliberate murder more clearly than Severus had intended it after all.

Or had Severus intended a reference to killing people because of their religious beliefs? With the Potions Master Minerva often was unsure. He liked to insult people and to play with words. Maybe the double meaning amused him.


	5. Chapter 4: Garlic Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: So, anybody still remember Raven?

Chapter 4: Garlic Trouble

 

Early the next morning a sleepy looking group of Slytherin third years arrived at Professor Snape's office door. Pansy, who considered herself leader in Draco's absence, knocked politely, then stepped back a little.

Nothing happened.

Pansy knocked again, more forcefully.

Still nothing.

Gregory hammered on the door.

"Maybe he's already at breakfast." Blaise suggested.

"Too early." declared Vincent who had an uncanny knack for knowing when it was mealtime even without consulting a watch.

Theo yawned. "He's probably still in bed."

"Too late." countered Gregory grinning. "Breakfast will start in ten minutes. He won't want to miss it, so he must be up already."

"Then," Theo decided. "He's probably just stepping out of the shower, or maybe getting dressed."

"He's right." conceded Pansy. "There's no rule that says he has to visit his office before breakfast. We'll have to catch him in the great hall."

 

Unlike the teachers Poppy Pomfrey did have certain duties to see to before breakfast. Namely a quick morning round through the hospital wing to make sure there hadn't been any mishaps during the night and all her patients were doing alright. She also made it a rule not to go to the great hall before her patients had received their own breakfasts. It just wouldn't do for her to be eating while they went hungry. After all they couldn't just get up and get themselves something, while she could always nab a piece of bread from the kitchen to tide her over.

Today there wasn't much to do. Her only patient was a Gryffindor sixth year who'd somehow managed to cast a stomach turning hex on himself while practising transfiguring his eyebrows. At least that was the story he'd given her.

Poppy never questioned the students' tales unless it was absolutely necessary in order to cure them. She considered their trust in her more important than their truthfulness. Better an offence should go unpunished, than that a student hid a dangerous injury, because he was afraid to tell how he'd received it.

The strategy usually served her well as far as she knew.

It didn't mean she never wondered, though. The similitude of an eyebrow-transfiguring spell and a stomach-turning hex began and ended with the fact that you had to point your wand at a human being. In one case you continued by drawing the wand slowly down the length of the eyebrow, raised it straight up, then continued with the other eyebrow and in the other you pointed it at the person's belly and made a fast turning motion while saying the spell.

Poppy did not see how one could accidentally turn one into the other. Maybe if it'd been a blinding hex, but even for that you'd have to be very clumsy. It looked a lot more like the result of a hex-fight in the halls.

Still, no great harm done. Mr. Jordan looked slightly woebegone when she informed him that his stomach was definitely not up to breakfast and toast with marmalade was out of the question for at last another day, but was healthy enough to beam at the news that he'd be staying for two more days. After all that meant he'd miss tow days of classes and be out just in time to enjoy his weekend.

She fluffed up his pillows a little so he could sit up comfortably and handed him a Quidditch magazine to help pass the time until his friends snuck in to visit. Not that there was any reason to deny Lee visitors. Allowing the visit would spoil the Weasley twins' fun, though.

"Poppy? Do you have a few minutes?"

She turned to the door in surprise. Severus Snape hadn't shown up here since the time he'd been bitten by Fluffy in his failed attempt to stop Voldemort from getting the philosophers' stone.

Poor Severus, he'd guessed Voldemort's plan and would have managed to head Quirrel off, if it hadn't been for one little coincidence. First year Hermione Granger had been in the bathroom when the students had been sent to their common rooms and missed the warning about the troll Quirrel had snuck into the castle as a distraction. The poor little girl had run straight into it on her way out. If Severus hadn't heard her terrified scream and abandoned his post to save her ...

Poppy knew he still felt guilty about it, though. When Severus had brought the girl in Poppy had insisted on taking a look at his leg as well and by the time she'd bound it Voldemort had been gone and the stone with him. Severus had saved a life, but Voldemort had returned and taken many others.

She wondered whether he secretly blamed her for keeping him from returning to his post at once as well. He definitely seemed to be avoiding her ever since.

"Of course, Severus." she invited him into her office.

"I don't want to be a bother." Severus trying to be polite usually heralded bad news. "But this ought to take just a moment. I'd normally do it myself, but I just don't seem to be able to reach it."

"Reach what?" Poppy demanded a little impatiently. "Why don't you just tell me what's wrong?"

"I seem to have acquired a splinter in my finger." He presented his hand to her and Poppy almost groaned.

The finger was infected, red and swollen. It had to be painful.

"Just how old is that injury?" she snapped. "Why didn't you come here right away? I can pull out a fresh splinter in a second. Now it's going to hurt."

"I thought I'd get it eventually." Severus shrugged. "Injury is a bit exaggerated, don't you think?"

"Oh, just give it here." She pulled him closer to the window to see, then lit her wand for extra light, but in the mess of red swollen skin a tiny splinter would be hard to see.

Nevertheless she was surprised when her search revealed nothing. At first she'd thought that an indentation at the tip of the finger had to be the splinter's tip, but there was just a small circular hole, no splinter. Maybe it was an old scar.

Perhaps it wasn't really a splinter, though. Maybe Severus had been stung by something and the hole was the sting?

But a quick diagnostic spell confirmed Severus' claim. There was an about half a centimetre long piece of wood somewhere inside that finger, but the locator part of the spell appeared to be off target. At least Poppy had never heard of invisible wood.

Well, Severus would just have to suffer for hesitating too long. Poppy ran her fingers over the swelling, squeezed and prodded it in an attempt to feel the splinter.

Severus flinched a few times, but said nothing.

Somehow the bones felt odd. Poppy checked by feeling her own finger, then Severus's again.

Yes, Severus' bone seemed thicker in the fingertip and the joint was somehow odd as well. Or maybe the bone was bent downwards?

And maybe it was just the swelling playing tricks on her.

Poppy felt the bones in Severus's middle finger for comparison. Somewhat thicker and slightly bent. And there was a tiny dot at the fingertip just where the scar was in the swollen one.

In fact there was such a dot on every one of Severus' fingers. As if it were a natural hole for something to get in ... or out. Oh!

But that was impossible. What the hell was Severus doing here, if he ...

Well, that was his business, wasn't it? It wasn't like it made him any less qualified to teach. Or any less a person in need of her professional help. He should have informed her of that, though.

Then again, why should he be required to? It wasn't like she'd ever demanded that people declare their ancestry. Even Hagrid's file did not mention his giant blood and she had no idea whether Filius Flitwick was part dwarf or simply a very small man.

She'd always treated it as a natural occurrence when one of her patients showed signs of drawven, giant, or veela ancestry. This was then absolutely natural and not in need of declaration as well.

Poppy chided herself for having started at the realisation. It didn't have any relevance for the situation anyway. ... Unless ...

"Severus, can you unsheathe your claws?"

"What?"

"Well, does the splinter obstruct the claw sheath in any way?"

Severus snorted. "You think a tiny piece of wood could be strong enough to resist a claw that's made to cut steel?"

Good point. It'd probably cut through the splinter as if it weren't even there. Which meant she was possibly looking for two splinters.

"Does it hurt to unsheathe the claws?" she demanded. "Show me."

Five long sharp claws snapped out of Severus's fingers in the blink of an eye.

Poppy gulped nervously. They were quite a bit longer than she'd imagined. There had to be some magic involved to allow Severus to bend his first finger joints while they were sheathed.

Sharp, gleaming, deadly. As Severus had said, the Catar's claws had been enspelled to cut steel. They had been created as warriors after all.

And she had never in her long medical praxis seen a set of Catar claws before, or any wound to match them. Despite having encountered a few victims of Severus in a temper tantrum. Whatever the Templars said, Catar didn't seem prone to lashing out with their claws and Severus had only produced them after she'd told him to.

She pulled the finger into the light again coming dangerously close to the middle finger's claw in the process. Said claw disappeared as fast as it had arrived.

Poppy blinked at the four remaining claws in surprise. "They can be moved independently?"

"With sufficient practise." Severus confirmed. "It's not something you should expect of a student, though."

There were Catar students at Hogwarts? Right under the eyes of Sir Fulko?

"It might be easier, if I could see only that one claw." she said a little hesitantly.

Three more claws slipped out of sight. More slowly this time.

Poppy regarded the way the claw protruded from the inflamed finger. There was a small irregularity in the way the skin surrounded it.

"Aha!" she triumphed. "It's in the claw sheath. That's why it's invisible from the outside."

Now how to get at it?

"Where?" Severus demanded.

Poppy pointed out the irregularity. "Just a hint below that, I'd judge."

The claw snapped into the sheath, then came out very slowly slowly, snapped in again, out slowly, again and again until a tiny dark spot pushed out beside it.

"There." Severus stated.

"I see it." Poppy confirmed. "Hold still."

It did take only a second to pull out the splinter.

"Thank you." Severus re-sheathed his claw and lowered his hand.

"Stop!" Poppy snapped. "I haven't disinfected that, yet. And I should bandage it so it'll stay clean when you brew. There's no telling what might happen if some potions ingredient ends up in a wound like that. I might have to cut up your whole finger to get at it."

Severus relented.

"I'd thank you not to mention this to anyone." he stated while watching her attempts to force healing salve into his claw sheath.

"Why not?" Poppy smiled at him. "I removed a splinter from you finger. Nothing unusual about that. I doubt the Templar would think to question any further."

"Albus would wonder why I had to go to you for it."

"Albus knows everything anyway."

"Not this." Severus shook his head. "You are the only one in the school who knows what I am. It is a matter of life and death that it remain so."

"Albus wouldn't let them touch you, Severus." Poppy assured him. "But as far as I am concerned people's racial background is nobody's business, but their own."

"The Temple has walked over more powerful wizards than Albus Dumbledore before." Severus told her as she wound gauze over his finger and around his wrist. "Misguided faith is a power more deadly than Avada Kedavra and more powerful than even the strongest shielding spell. One man alone can never control the Temple."

"The minister ..."

Severus snorted. "Fudge wouldn't dare try, even if he didn't believe every word they say. Their Grand Master is the only authority the Templars obey, no matter what they might claim on the outside."

He flexed his hand to test the bandage. "That won't last through a transformation."

Ah yes, the Catar's other form. Monstrous, huge cats, according to the Templars, terrible to behold. Majestic and beautiful, the wizards of long ago had said. Poppy had never even seen a picture.

"Prove it." she challenged, though there was little doubt in her mind that he was correct. He was the expert, after all.

It was as fluid and graceful as any animagus transformation she had ever seen.

Then a big black panther stood before her. With an almost pleading look he lifted his paw to show off the white fabric dangling loosely from it.

Dark, elegant, gleaming, soft. That was what he looked like. Well, maybe a bit dangerous.

"Alright, well ..." she knelt to remove the bandage.

That fur didn't just look soft. It felt like silk, too.

He rumbled slightly in warning when she started to rub his ear.

Poppy quickly snatched her hand back.

"Do you have to transform?" she asked. "It's only for a few days."

The panther morphed back into Severus. At least she wasn't tempted to pet him anymore now.

"I'm going deep into the forest today." he explained. "It would not be wise to do that as a human."

"You are planning to drag that paw ... hand through the dirt outside?" This was a lot worse than she'd originally thought. Clean measured out potion ingredients were one thing, but placing the entire hand deep into muddy ground was much more risky. "No, you can't!"

"I have to bury the last member of my clan, Poppy." Severus stated coldly. "There is nobody else to do it and it cannot be postponed any further."

"Can't you ..."

"Leave him to be eaten by the wild animals?" Severus growled. "Most definitely not."

"Oh, of course not. But isn't there anybody else? I mean ..."

"No, they are all dead now. He would not have owled me, if there had been anybody. I was not on good terms with the clan. Catar despise dark magic. Few things disgust them as much as death eaters."

And the ministry of magic defined them as dark creatures.

"You don't like human wizards much either, do you?"

"I?"

"Your race."

"Lets see: We've been insulted, discredited, hunted, chased from our homes, tortured, burned at the sake, stoned, hanged, skinned ... and all of that in the name of some imaginary kind and forgiving giver of life ... No, all in all, we are not particularly fond of modern day wizarding society, if you'll excuse us."

Poppy winced. Stupid question. There were good reasons the Catar had gone into hiding.

"Maybe if I put an elastic bandage on you in cat form." she decided. "A water repellent spell should keep the mud out."

"Raven." Severus stated. "Paw was the correct term in the context, by the way."

"What?"

"You can refer to the cat as Raven and a cat has paws not hands. I don't plan on running around on my human hands."

"Raven?" Why ever would she call the panther a bird?

"You don't call the cat by the human name." Severus explained. "My cat-name's Raven."

"So each form is treated as a separate person? One is Severus, the other Raven?"

"No," Severus gave her a wry smile. "One is Severus. Both are Raven, but it might be wise to talk of Raven only as the cat."

"Well, I need Raven's paw, then." Poppy declared.

It was interesting, she mused while she tried to figure out the best way to bandage a panther's finger loosely enough that the bandage wouldn't stretch too tightly on a human finger, that the Catar apparently considered their cat form the dominant one. Was the human name even real to them, or a false identity they assumed in the presence of wizards?

It took three attempts to create a bandage that survived the transformation from cat to human and back to cat intact.

"Come back for a new one as soon as you return from your trip." she advised Severus ... Raven before he left. "You won't be able to bandage yourself like this."

And people would wonder why his bandage was so dirty once he transformed back after running through the mud. It was best, if they never saw it.

 

Professor Snape didn't show up at breakfast at all, much to a certain group of Slytherins' disappointment and Draco looked more groggy than ever, though several mugs of tea restored him to a halfway awake state.

Gregory, Vincent and Millicent had to trudge off to Divination right after breakfast, thanks to the remote location of the class, but the rest of them had Arithmancy and could afford the time to return to the common room to collect their bookbags.

Theo, who was the fastest runner among them made another attempt to catch their head of house and found a note cancelling all Potions lessons for the day charmed onto the door of the Potions classroom. Professer Snape was nowhere to be found. No help from that end at least for today.

 

Raven dashed through the forest at top speed. For once he didn't take any time to sharpen his claws or chase after anything. He just kept on running straight ahead until he reached the clan's former border.

This time he wasn't surprised that he couldn't feel the clan. After all he knew that they were all dead. There was nobody there to feel.

He slowed down to a walk for a while. Catar were fast runners, but couldn't keep up their top speed for very long and he was out of practise. Maybe he should have set out more slowly.

Then again, it was probably wise not to dash through this part of the forest. He hadn't been here in almost two decades. The forest was a living thing and it changed faster than the humans' buildings of dead stone. He could no longer expect to know every tree in the playground of his kitten days.

Indeed, some familiar landmarks were gone, new trees blocked old trails, but it was not hard to slip around them. What was much harder was not to flinch at every sound. He had to keep telling himself that he now had a right to be here. Nobody was going to chase him off.

Bushes had grown in on the clearing that had once been his home. Of the little village that had stood here only one hut remained. Nightstalker's of course.

The entrance was just big enough for Raven to slip in comfortably. When left to their own devices Catar rarely built doors. They were only a minor hindrance to a big cat, but hindrance nevertheless.

Nightstalker had died in cat-form. He was lying peacefully curled up on his bed looking almost asleep.

Raven smiled a sad little cat-smile, just a tiny movement of his whiskers that a human observer would probably have missed entirely. Nightstalker had gotten to chose. He'd known his death was near and had the chance to plan where and how to die without having to fear discovery by humans.

It was certainly a nice way to go and would have been easy to deal with, if there had been someone here to handle matters right away. Now however the body was beginning to decay and the smell of death filled the hut.

He'd wished a lonely death on Nightstalker once, back when he'd been exiled, had wanted him to feel what it meant to be without clan or home. It seemed so petty now.

Raven transformed and checked the hut’s contents as quickly as he possibly could. There was little here that he had any use for. Wooden dishes, stone knives, old pots and cauldrons. What need did he have for such things at Hogwarts with its well equipped kitchen and house elves?

Clothes, made of leather, rough wool and linen. All very utilitarian and made for Nightstalker, so they most likely wouldn't have fit Raven, even if he'd had a need for clothing.

At the bottom of the chest he found one thing he decided to keep, though. A green hooded cloak with silver embroidery, the clanmaster's mantle. Raven wondered whether Nightstalker had even had many occasions to wear it lately. He himself probably never would after today, but it was still his rightful possession now and if somebody saw him with it, there was no danger. It would seem completely natural for the head of Slytherin to own a cloak in his house colours.

He put on the cloak, then searched the tiny storeroom. Luckily there wasn't much food left. Food wasn't to be wasted, so he would have been obliged to take it home, if there had been more than he would need to eat today.

Apparently Nightstalker had never stocked up for winter.

He hadn't had breakfast and had been travelling for over two hours, but somehow he wasn't hungry right now. So he just took the food outside for later.

Another thing he shouldn't let go to waste were the potions ingredients. There were more of them than he'd expected, but most were of excellent quality, though some had lost potency due to overly long storage.

Still he packed all of them up. Even the old ones were definitely good enough for the students' use. The little wizards would probably not even know the difference.

The ritual items took him a little longer to make up his mind. Unlike the cloak they were dangerous to keep as they could easily be recognised for what they were.

Destroying them wasn't an option, though. They were sacred objects and Raven was still a priest, even if he didn't practise the rites and hadn't in a long time.

If fact he held the status of high priest now, though only by default. Only a high priest could head a clan and as long as one member survived, so did the clan. No official initiation for him, though. Raven almost laughed out loud at the thought.

It was ironic enough that he, the defiled outcast, should bare the title at all. What a bitter end for the once proudest clan of the entire island ... well, country perhaps. There was the Stonehenge clan down in England. If it still existed, that was. It had been decades since the last contact between the two clans.

He decided to take the items and keep them well hidden. If he could keep his death eater's mask, he could keep a sacred staff as well. It didn't make much of a difference.

Was it sacrilege to keep both in the same hiding place?

Most probably yes. After all it was for a priest to wear a dark mark.

And now there was a high priest wearing one. Perhaps it would be the only right thing to kill himself and end the travesty along with the clan.

He decided to get rid of the death eater items. Albus would be unhappy about it, but if he absolutely wanted to keep them for spying purposes, he could store them himself. Raven had a better use for their current hiding place now.

He took a walk around the clearing in his cat shape after removing everything that he wished to keep from the hut. What exactly he expected to find he couldn't tell. He knew that there was nothing there to find, so perhaps he was just stalling.

Was he nervous about having to perform a high ritual for the very first time and without having undergone the proper initiation rites? There wasn't anybody here to see him, if he failed. In fact, nobody would know, if he didn't perform the ritual at all.

Did it bother him that he was about to destroy the last vestiges of his childhood home? The sacred forest clan had owned and protected this land for centuries. Soon they would be gone without a trace.

But the clan was already dead and Raven had been banished long ago. They were already gone whether he performed the ritual or not.

Was it the use of his magic he feared then? He hadn't used any Catar magic other than the transformation since he'd taken the dark mark. Perhaps the evil of the mark had cancelled his innate magic. He'd never wanted to know. The loss would hurt too much.

Nobody would know, if he didn't perform the ritual. I fact it would be ridiculous with nobody here to watch. He could just use his wand to do away with the body and the hut.

Nightstalker had been a perfect Catar, one of the clans' best. He'd always followed the teachings to the letter, performed and undergone every ritual of their kind. All except this one.

Raven found that he had come to a stop in front of the hut, at exactly the right spot even though he had made no conscious decision to do so.

He transformed raising his hands to the sky. In his head he was laughing at himself as he called out to the sky, the earth, the wind and the forest. But after all there was nobody here to see him and it felt good to talk to old friends.

The words came to him much more easily than he'd have thought. Maybe he did have a tendency to overanalyse his actions. Perhaps he should allow himself to act on impulse more often, but then he ran the risk of the cat instincts taking over.

He finished the prayer and let himself drop onto his knees, felt the cloak fall elegantly around him. Head hanging down and eyes closed he crossed his hands in front of him palms up, then raised the right hand of the left pulling in his fingers to form a fist as he went.

He didn't need to open his eyes to know that it had worked. He could hear and smell the flames and the sound didn't stop when he opened his hand and stood up. His magic was there, just as it had always been.

He waited until the hut had been completely consumed by the flames before once again closing his eyes and covering his face with his hands, then slowly drawing them downward and to the side, palms once again facing forward.

The rain extinguished the flames as he knew it would and all that remained of the Catar clan after Raven had gathered up his new possessions and slipped back between the trees was a patch of burned earth. The next spring would cover it with new greens.

 

The complete register of Potions ingredients turned out to consist of three fat volumes and sorted by the ingredients' Greek names according to Hermione. Harry couldn't see any sort of system at all.

"So what is garlic in Greek?" he asked the girl.

"I hoped Neville would know." Hermione admitted.

Neville shook his head sadly. "I could tell you of most magical plants, but not vegetables."

"Well, only one thing we can do then." Hermione stated.

"Check out a Greek dictionary?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Wouldn't that be great." Hermione sighed. "There isn't one."

Harry asked Madame Pince anyway. She didn't just have no dictionary, she didn't know any Greek either.

Searching the entire register looked like it would take days, but both Hermione and Neville made surprisingly fast progress with their respective volumes.

"If you'd just stop daydreaming and concentrate on the task at hand, you'd be done much sooner." Hermione snapped at him when she realised he was still on page fifty.

It was all so boring, though. With his luck it would probably be in his book too.

They were just about to stop and go to dinner when Neville gasped in surprise.

"There!" he called. "I found it."

Madame Pince glanced at them angrily, but didn't interfere. She knew that Neville was usually a quiet boy and not likely to have any more such outbursts.

"Used in some medical potions." Hermione read out at a whisper. "Oh, that's not good."

"Why?" Harry asked. "Medicine isn't supposed to explode, is it?"

"No, but it's often poisonous." Hermione explained.

"But nobody's going to drink Ron's messed up potion anyway, are they?" Neville said hopefully.

"Probably not, but ..." Hermione hesitated.

"Lets check what exactly garlic does before we panic." Harry decided. "It's edible, so why should it be poisonous."

"Well, it's supposed to be very healthy." Hermione agreed. "Muggles who eat lots of garlic are supposed to have longer lives. Maybe that's what it's used for in medical potions."

"But lets eat first." Harry stopped Hermione from running back to the shelves and getting more books. "I'm starving."

"We don't have much time." Neville fretted. "Our next Potions class is tomorrow."

 

The black panther slipped into Hogwarts silently as a shadow while everybody was at dinner. He stopped just a moment to make sure Sir Fulko Saint Aignon was indeed in the great hall.

In his cat form Raven had no problem recognising the Templar's voice among the chatter coming through the half open door. He mimed hissing at the great hall, then continued on his way taking a fleet of stairs in three fluid leaps.

The door to the hospital wing opened inward and the handle gave easily under his paws, so he had no need to transform.

He slipped into Poppy's office and curled up under her desk to wait. He'd have taken her chair, but it was uncomfortably small for a full sized Catar in cat form.

 

"I wonder where Snape is." Harry frowned at the empty chair at the head table. "He doesn't usually miss dinner."

"He hasn't been here all day." Hermione confirmed. "I overheard Mona tell Gwendolyn that all his classes were cancelled."

Harry didn't remember anyone called Mona or Gwndolyn in their class, but this probably wasn't the time to ask. Maybe they were Ravenclaws. He never did listen too closely during role call.

"That's good." Neville remarked. "If he has to cancel tomorrow's classes as well we have the entire weekend to research garlic."

"But what if he's up to no good in the meantime." Harry worried. "He might be out doing god knows what for Voldemort."

Neville winced at the name.

"Nonsense." Hermione shook her head. "He's probably just sick and Madame Pomfrey will have him cured by the morning. We can't rely on him cancelling another day's worth of classes."

"We should at least check the hospital wing." Harry insisted. "Just to be sure he's really there."

Thus they took a detour to the hospital wing on their way back to the library armed with the excuse that they wanted to see how Lee was doing.

"We don't even know Lee Jordan." Neville argued.

"I know him." Harry countered. "Well, sort of. He's close friends with the Weasley twins and I know them from Quidditch."

"That's not really close enough to warrant a visit, though." Neville countered.

"Madame Pomfrey doesn't know that." Harry at least sounded sure of his facts. "And Lee won't tell. The twins wouldn't be friends with him, if he were a tattle-tale."

"I don't know. It’s probably a bad idea." Hermione admitted. "We shouldn't lie to a teacher."

"Pomfrey isn't a teacher." Harry insisted.

"Technicalities." snapped Hermione.

Lee turned out to be asleep and all the other beds were empty.

"But where is Pomfrey?" Neville wondered. "She left the great hall before us."

"Maybe not to come back here." Harry suggested.

"Or maybe she's in her office." Hermione sneered at them. "I hear voices from there."

Indeed someone was talking in the nurse's office, but the door was closed which was quite unusual. Normally Madame Pomfrey kept it open so she could hear her patients call for her as well as unauthorised visitors sneak in.

The three Gryffindors snuck closer to listen at the door.

"There you go." Madame Pomfrey was saying. "That should hold for a while. Just be careful when brewing."

Brewing? There was no time to wonder, though as the door swung open abruptly hitting Neville in the face.

"Thank you, Poppy. I ... Potter!" Professor Snape stood before them looking completely healthy except for a small bandage on his hand.

Completely healthy and furious.

"Good evening, Professor." Hermione greeted him.

"Good evening, children." Madame Pomfrey welcomed them ignoring the glaring match between Professor Snape and Harry. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually ..." Neville started nervously.

"Actually we were looking for you, Professor." Hermione jumped in. "There's something we need to tell you."

"You've had more than enough time to finish your essays." Professor Snape snapped. "I'm not giving you any extensions."

"Of course we have." Hermione confirmed. "It's not about homework."

"Then what is it?" Snape demanded when she didn't continue.

The three Gryffindors exchanged nervous glances.

"Well, we ... that is ... Ron ..." Neville stuttered.

"Ron Weasley, Sir." Hermione explained. "He is planning to add garlic and a crucifix to his next potion and we were worried that it might cause a harmful reaction, so we thought you'd better know."

"Garlic and a crucifix." Snape stated. "Why pray, garlic and a crucifix of all things?"

"Well, um ... I guess you're aware that there is a rumour among the first years that you are a vampire, Sir." Hermione stuttered.

Madame Pomfrey snorted. "Trust me I'd have noticed that."

Snape didn't bat an eyelid. "That's an old story." he confirmed. "Comes up at least once a year."

"Well, Ron wants to test the theory." Hermione continued encouraged by the mild reaction. "He believes that his potion will melt you when you grade it, if you really are a vampire."

This amused both adults.

"I assure you Miss Granger that a crucifix can't melt anything." Madame Pomfrey declared. "If it's big and heavy enough you might be able to hurt someone using it like a club, but otherwise it is just a symbol of faith and supposed to be treated with proper respect. Garlic can cause an allergic reaction in vampires, if ingested, but touching a potion containing it won't do anything at all."

"We're aware of that." Harry snapped, though he hadn't known about the crucifixes. "We were just worried it might cause an explosion."

"Hardly." Snape sneered. "Garlic is used in medical potions that are meant to be taken orally, if the patient is unconscious or otherwise unable to swallow. It vaporises the potion so it can be inhaled instead. What material is the crucifix?"

"We don't know." Hermione admitted. "I suppose some kind of metal. Probably the little golden one Ron wears around his neck."

"Real gold?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

"Probably not." Snape decided. "The Weasleys aren't rich. There shouldn't be anything in there that can cause any real harm in a simple third year potion, though. The only thing we have to worry about is that the whole class will breathe in Weasley's potion, but as long as he brews it correctly, that won't hurt them."

"What are you going to have them brew?" the nurse sounded slightly worried.

"I was planning on hair removal potion, but I suppose I'll reschedule to cheering solution." Snape decided. "The worst mistake Weasley is likely to make with that is to produce laughing potion instead. That would be annoying, but harmless."

"Unless somebody in the class is allergic to unicorn hair." Madame Pomfrey warned.

"Unlikely." Snape sneered. "But I'll take some allergy potion to class just in case."

And he was probably going to take a hundred points off Gryffindor for Ron's stunt, Harry thought miserably. They could only hope that at least Saint Aignon didn't find out about Ron's abuse of a crucifix or else they'd be in negative points for the rest of the year.


	6. Chapter 5: A Potions Accident

Chapter 5: A Potions Accident

 

"Mmmmmrrrr, don't wanna." Draco growled when Gregory shook him awake on Friday morning.

"Come on, pal." Gregory coaxed. "Breakfast, delicious breakfast. The most important meal of the day. Fresh toast with marmalade or jam, ham and eggs, porridge, cornflakes, all sorts of yummy things."

"Not hungry." Draco burrowed deeper into the sheets. "Tired."

"And then we have Potions all morning." Theo added. "Two hours of Snape and Gryffindor bashing. Your favourite subject."

"Come on Draco." Vincent grabbed his arms and pulled him physically out of bed. "Can't disappoint Snape, can we."

Draco tried curling up on the floor, but it was too hard and cold, so he sat up. The room swam before his eyes and he felt sick. If the hospital wing weren't so far away he'd go ask Madame Pomfrey for help. Right now getting dressed was enough of a challenge, though.

 

Ron Weasley bounced down the stairs from the Gryffindor boys' dormitories. He was in a wonderful mood this morning.

Unfortunately the common room was empty. Nobody to give his great news to.

Ron shrugged and set out for the great hall.

He was used to being alone, even if he didn't like it. He'd had to get used to it back in his first year. Somehow he'd had the bad luck not to meet any of his future classmates on the train and the group of older Hufflepuffs he'd ended up sitting with hadn't been much help once he'd been sorted into Gryffindor and had found to his horror that all the other first year boys had already found a friend that happened to be in their dorm. Seamus Finnigan spent all his time with Dean Thomas and Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom had been inseparable from day one.

In the end he'd been forced to hang out with the only other person left alone who unfortunately happened to be a bossy, know-it-all girl called Hermione Granger. Ron thought she didn't even belong in this house, but then without her he'd really have been the fifth wheel of Gryffindor. Befriending Hermione at least gave him somebody to talk to, though they didn't really get along.

She loved to spend hours at a time in the library, studying and discussing academics. He loved Quidditch, lazing about and the occasional game of chess. That last one was about the only thing they both enjoyed, though Hermione didn't take it nearly serious enough to provide a proper challenge to Ron. He suspected that she could have been a great player, if she really applied all of her intelligence, but Hermione considered the game a casual distraction. She often got distracted by the conversation and sometimes even jumped up halfway through, because she'd remembered something she wished to check in a book or add to a homework assignment.

All too often they quarrelled and he was left on his own until Hermione realised how much she needed him and came back.

Well, today's operation should gain him some friends at last. They'd all look up to him once he rid the school of Snape. Then he wouldn't have to hang out with the know-it-all at all anymore.

It was a pity he'd have to sacrifice his crucifix, but then Ron still hoped that it might survive the brewing process. Once the potion cooled down he'd be able to fish it out, right? After all a potion was just water with all sorts of vegetables and such things thrown in.

"After today we'll never have to worry about Snape again." he announced proudly as he sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. "I'll see to that."

"Yeah right." snorted his little sister Ginny and returned her attention to buttering her toast.

"What are you going to do?" a first year boy asked.

"Nothing, Dennis." Colin Creevey pulled the first year away. "Don't bother with that idiot. If Ron Weasley ever manages to rid the school of Snape it will be by giving him a heart attack over his stupidity."

Ron frowned after them. "You just wait and see. I've got the perfect plan. Snape will never see it coming. You'll see, too, Hermione. I just know it's going to work."

Hermione Granger, uncharacteristically, didn't react. Harry and Neville beside her squirmed uncomfortably. They were feeling guilty for having betrayed a fellow Gryffindor to Snape of all people. It might be only Ron, but the head of Slytherin was their common enemy.

The third year Slytherins flocked past them. Some of them sneered and Millicent Bulstrode exchanged a few malicious words with Lavender and Parvati, but most simply ignored the Gryffindors entirely. They were definitely acting odd this year, Ron thought. As if they'd completely lost interest in the house rivalry.

When he'd mentioned it in a letter home his mother had answered that it was obviously a sign of increased maturity and it was time Ron grew up as well. Ron of course was convinced that it was really just some sinister plot, but he hadn't been able to find out what exactly the Slytherins were planning yet. He was keeping his eyes and ears open for any hints, though.

Ron helped himself to a large portion of porridge with lots of jam.

"Leave some for the rest of us, will you." Lavender snapped at him. "Other people might still want to have some on their toast."

Lavender always had toast with jam for breakfast. Ron couldn't see why she couldn't take marmalade instead, if the jam ran out. He needed jam in his porridge. Porridge and marmalade just didn't go together very well.

Beside him Hermione was delivering some kind of book report on medical potions to Harry and Neville and the boy hero and his sidekick were actually listening with apparent interest. Ron dug through his brain to find a connection with the Potions homework assignment for today, but didn't see it. Had Snape given them some reading to do in addition to the essay Ron had done yesterday night? Ron thought he'd remember, if he had so hopefully this was part of Harry and Neville's project for Herbology class. Yes, they'd probably asked Hermione for help and she was just explaining possible uses for a plant.

Ron wolfed down his porridge, followed it up with two rolls and grabbed a last slice of toast on his way out of the great hall. They should really give people more time to have breakfast in peace, but if he didn't go get his books now he'd be late for Potions and that was never advisable. Especially not today. Everything would be in vain, if Snape saw him slip garlic into his cauldron. The old bat would be warned and find an excuse to vanish the potion before it could harm him.

 

"Oh my, Malfoy really looks sick today." Parvati commented to Lavender as the two entered the Potions classroom right in front of Ron. "I'm almost beginning to worry for him."

Ron snorted. Girls were such soft hearted fools.

Well, he supposed it was in their maternal nature to worry for everything, even slimy Slytherins. He tried not to think too badly of Parvati for it. It was all Malfoy's fault for running around looking like that and provoking the girls' instincts anyway.

Maybe that was his evil plan?

No time for that now. Snape was glaring at him for some reason. Ron blinked wondering what he'd done wrong this time.

"If you would perhaps move on to your seat, Weasley." Snape 'suggested'. "Or at least get out of the doorway so Thomas and Finnigan can get through."

Oh, so that was why people kept bumping into him from behind!

Ron walked over to his desk and slammed his book bag onto it.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Weasley." Snape said sarcastically and the Slytherins snickered.

Ron even thought he heard a muffled giggle from where the Gryffindor girls were sitting. Stupid cows.

"Today you are to brew cheering solution, a potion so simple a first year ought to be able to brew it in his sleep, but no doubt some of you will find even this a challenge." Snape glanced pointedly at Harry and Neville, then over to Ron. "There are clear and simple instructions in your Potions text page 25."

There was the sound of pages turning all around him and Ron hastily tore his Potions book out of his bag not bothering with the clasp.

The recipe on page 25 didn't look all that simple to him. There were more than ten ingredients to the potion.

"So from these instructions, what do you consider to be the most likely mistakes one can make in the brewing process?" Snape demanded.

This was a new approach. He'd never asked them to go looking for critical stages before. How were they supposed to know anyway? This was the first time Ron had even heard of the potion.

"Ms Granger?" Snape actually called on Hermione for once.

"It is important to take the potion off the fire and let it cool for five minutes before you add the armadillo bile." Hermione said. "Because armadillo bile heats up very fast. I suppose the potion might boil over, if you add it while the potion is still boiling hot."

"No, Ms Granger, the potion wouldn't boil over." Snape sneered. "There wouldn't be a cauldron wall left over which to boil. Pouring more than ten drops of armadillo bile into a boiling potion will melt the cauldron. Did you hear that, Longbottom?"

"Y ... yes, Sir." Neville squeaked.

"Well, that's very good, Longbottom, because if you melt another cauldron today you will have the special honour of presenting a report on cauldron safety to the class next week." Snape threatened. "Mr. Nott?"

"The roots have to be diced not just sliced." Theodore Nott reported.

"Five points to Slytherin, Mr. Nott." Snape awarded. "And what would happen if you were sloppy and used sliced birch root in this potion, Mr. Malfoy?"

For a moment Ron hoped that Malfoy had missed the question. He hadn't even been looking at Snape and actually started at hearing his name.

"The roots would sink to the bottom of the cauldron and not mix with the potion rendering it useless." the Slytherin answered after a second, though.

"If you added the porcupine quills too late the potion would congeal." Pansy Parkinson supplied.

"Too many beetle eyes and it would cause nausea." Lavender surprised everyone.

"Too many or too few rose petals would reduce it's efficiency." Estella Rushton commented.

Ron suppressed a yawn. Get on with it already! He needed to start brewing so he could set his plan in motion.

Finally after an eternity of lecturing about every single little thing that could go wrong with this potion Snape told them to start and went to talk to Malfoy. For the first time ever Ron was the first student to fill his cauldron with water and for once Snape didn't even snap at him for splashing some every step from the faucet to his worktable.

Ron was a little surprised at that, but a look around revealed that Snape as still talking to Malfoy urging him to see the nurse after class. Even the old bat thought that Malfoy was overdoing it, ha!

Now to get the ingredients. For this Ron had to wait until no other students were at the student cupboard, or someone might notice him talking the garlic.

He fumbled around on his desk and readjusted the fire under his cauldron until Snape finally asked him when he planned to actually work. That forced him to head to the cupboard while Malfoy was still there, but luckily the Slytherin was too busy looking sick to pay any attention to what ingredients Ron was picking up.

Ron returned to his cauldron feeling triumphant. He took off the little crucifix that his grandmother had given him for his first holy communion and threw it into the cauldron quickly before he could change his mind. It was hard to part with something he'd cherished for so many years.

"Did you just throw in a rose petal as first ingredient?" Dean Thomas asked him incredulously.

"No." Ron denied hastily. "I didn't throw in anything."

"Then what were you doing with your hand over the cauldron?" Dean eyed him suspiciously.

"I was ... I was just checking whether it's already hot. Rising heat, you know."

"Ron, I can see from here that the water's already boiling." Dean sighed. "See all those big bubbles? That means it's boiling."

"Well, I wanted to check anyway." Ron insisted and bent over his recipe.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Dean was still watching him. Maybe it would be better to wait with adding the garlic until he was sure nobody was looking his way. He didn't want Snape to overhear a question from Dean and be warned. It was pure luck that Dean had mistaken the crucifix for a rose petal.

He began to brew his potion exactly according to the instructions and finally Dean seemed to concentrate on his own work again.

But now Snape was striding up and down the classroom and could turn Ron's way any moment. He just couldn't risk being seen.

Ron suppressed a sigh and added the porcupine quills.

"Are you sure you're all right, Mr. Malfoy?" he heard Snape ask and risked another look.

Everybody was looking at Malfoy whose Face had gone snow-white. He was even clinging to his table. This was the perfect distraction.

Ron took one fast glance at his book to check the next ingredient. Armadillo bile.

He palmed the garlic as he picked up the vial of armadillo bile with the same hand. There was a popping sound behind him just as he uncorked the vial and Snape called out "Draco!", but Ron had no time to check what was going on with Malfoy. He dropped the garlic as he poured the armadillo bile into his cauldron.

There was a loud hiss as his potion and cauldron evaporated in front of his eyes and then Snape shouted: "Everybody out! Don't breathe in the fumes!" and he was swept along in a mad dash for the door.

Snape reached the safety of the corridor last, threw the classroom door shut with a bang and cast a sealing spell on it.

"What happened?" Ron asked blinking at the frightened faces around him in confusion.

"Weasley, you dunderhead!" Snape barked. "You turned your classmate into a cat! One hundred points off Gryffindor for the most brainless mistake ever."

"I what?" Ron gaped like a fish at the silver-blond cat in Snape's arms. "Malfoy?" It was a weird creature, proportioned more like an oversized kitten than an adult cat. "I did that? But how? I wasn't even looking at him all lesson!"

"Well, I don't even know how you managed to turn cheering solution into a shape changing potion. It's a completely different recipe."

"But Malfoy didn't even touch my potion." Ron defended himself.

"You added garlic." Snape hissed. "Don't dare deny that. I saw you."

"Yes, but what does that have to do with ..."

"Garlic is used in potions to turn them gaseous so they can be inhaled rather than drunk." Snape snapped. "Now get out of my sight before I deduct another one hundred points off Gryffindor for sheer stupidity. Class dismissed."

"But Sir!" Hermione exclaimed horrified. "Our potions are unfinished. And my book bag! All my books and homework for today are in there!"

"Thanks to Weasley's glorious incompetence you will have to do without them until tomorrow. It will take several hours until the potion has sufficiently dissipated to be harmless. I will alert the headmaster to the problem." Snape sneered. "I have to say until today I was convinced that Longbottom was the worst student I've ever had, but even he has never managed to contaminate an entire classroom while brewing a simple household potion."

"What of Draco?" Pansy Parkinson asked sounding genuinely worried much to Ron's surprise. "Is he going to be okay?"

Snape glanced down at the weird cat in his hands. "I'll see what I can do. There's a potion that just might help."

Ron decided to flee while Snape was distracted.

 

"I'm going to kill Weasley." Gregory announced when the Slytherins reached their common room.

"You can't." Millicent pointed out. "They'd send you to Azkaban."

"No, they wouldn't." Gregory smiled triumphantly, For once he knew more than somebody else. "I'm too young. You have to be at least seventeen to go to prison."

"They can admit you into the insane ward at St. Mungo's, though." Theo reminded him. "Or some corrective institution."

"Maybe we could set it up to look like an accident." Vincent suggested. "Or blame one of the Gryffindors."

"Weasley isn't worth the risk." Blaise declared. "He's just a bumbling idiot that'll never amount to anything."

"But look at what he did to Draco!" Gregory shouted. "We can't let him get away with that. Poor Draco, turned into a cat. He's our friend." He ended the speech with a slight sniffle.

"Now, now, Greg." Daphne leaned back in her comfy armchair next to the fireplace. "It's not that bad. After all Draco's always wanted to turn into a cat. He's been talking about it all year. Now he gets to actually try it. It's a wish come true."

"Do you think that's what Weasley's potion actually does?" Estella asked. "Fulfil wishes? Professor Snape did say it was next to impossible to turn cheering solution into a transformation potion after all. Weasley may be an idiot, but he's never been this far off target in his brewing before. Maybe a wish fulfilling potion is closer."

Pansy waved that theory away impatiently. "Who cares. What Weasley actually did and didn't brew is of no consequence to us. Leave that to Snape. Gregory has a point, though. We can't let Weasley get away with this. Perhaps we should turn him into something as well?"

"A rat." Alice suggested. "Then he can be chased by Granger's cat just like his shabby little pet."

"He has been going on about that a lot." Estella confirmed.

"You'd think he'd be glad, if the ugly old thing finally snuffed it." Gregory sneered.

"Probably can't afford a new one." Pansy sneered. "He must like rats, though, since he has one. We'll have to check the library for an easy way to transform a human."

"I think I know just the right book for that." Blaise grinned. "But lets wait until Draco gets back. It's his revenge. He has the right to choose exactly what we do to Weasley."

Draco however didn't show up again all morning, nor was he at lunch that day.

 

"Just what were you thinking coming to class today?" Snape scolded as soon as his office door closed behind them. "What was your father thinking even letting you come to school?"

He sat Draco on the floor. "Okay rascal, you can turn back now."

"Mewl?" Draco looked up at him through wide kitten eyes.

"Are you trying to tell me that you don't know how to turn back?" Snape demanded with just a touch of incredulity in his voice.

Draco nodded and tried to stand up. The moment he straightened his hind-legs, though he was threatening to topple over. Somehow he managed to tumble into a position that was halfway balanced, though he doubted the way his legs were spread out now was even remotely dignified.

"Mew!" he complained. Wasn't Snape going to do something?

"Very well." Snape sighed. "Just give me a minute to inform the headmaster that I unfortunately have to cancel today's afternoon classes."

Was he really smirking about that? Despite the fact that his beloved classroom was damaged?

"You're really lucky that Weasley happened to be fooling around with his potion just at the right moment." Snape continued while picking up the floo powder. "The garlic excuse is credible enough that even Dumbledore will fall for it, though Weasley'd better not remember that he only added it after you transformed."

What? Then it hadn't been the potion that had done this at all? But why would Snape lie about it?

Draco attempted to follow Snape as the teacher headed towards his fireplace. He wanted to hear what he'd tell the headmaster. Unfortunately this body wouldn't co-operate, though. The moment he lifted one paw another slid away and he tumbled over.

"Mewl!"

"Honestly, one would think you'd never transformed before." Snape chided then stopped mid stride. "Oh, you haven't, have you?"

"Mew!"

"Wonderful, just wonderful." Snape sighed. "Well, just stay there and try to imagine yourself turning back into your human shape."

Draco closed his eyes and imagined his normal body in as much detail as he could. Nothing happened.

"Headmaster?" he heard Snape say over at the fireplace.

"Severus." Dumbledore's voice greeted happily. "Say, I thought you had a class right now. Would you like to come up for a quick game of chess? Finny just brought me this huge plate of biscuits and I can't possibly ..."

"This is serious, Albus." Snape's voice interrupted with barely restrained impatience. "I did have a class right now, but there was an emergency. I'll have to cancel all further lessons for the day unless the other classroom happens to be free."

There was a moment of silence.

"Oh my, did they blow up your classroom?" the headmaster finally asked. "It's been over a decade since we've had a major explosion. Was anybody hurt?"

"No, there wasn't any explosion at all. Weasley just got it into his head to throw garlic into his potion and contaminate the entire room."

"Oh dear. Which potion is it?"

"I haven't the slightest idea, Albus." Snape confessed. "That's the worst of it. He seems to have messed up the recipe completely. All I know is that it turned Mr. Malfoy into a cat."

"Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked surprised. "But Malfoy's a third year. Whatever were you brewing this early in third year that could have an effect like that?"

"Cheering solution." Snape stated dryly.

"Cheering solution? But how could one turn cheering solution into a transformation potion?"

"As I already said, Albus, I haven't the slightest idea." Snape repeated. "I was forewarned that he planned to experiment with garlic, because he thinks I'm a vampire, but that's all."

"And you just let him ..."

"That's why I chose to brew cheering solution today." Snape explained. "There isn't supposed to be anything you can get seriously wrong with it and I specifically went over every stage one can reasonably mess up with the class before I set them to work. I am unable to vary cheering solution to achieve such a result myself, but by some lucky coincidence Weaseley made a winning combination of mistakes. He swears to have followed the instructions from the book, of course."

Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively. "Third year. That would be Ronald Weasley then?"

"Indeed. The worst of the lot. At least where my subject is concerned." Snape sneered. "Percival doesn't have any more talent for the subject either, but at least he always worked for his grade."

"So you actually prefer Charles and the twins?" Dumbledore sounded surprised.

"Charles only ever studied for tests, but his practical work was almost always flawless. A pity he didn't have as much interest as talent for the subject." Snape returned lightly. "The twins are a behavioural problem and I've stopped even expecting them to hand in homework, but that might be partially due to boredom. They do have both talent and interest. When they mess up a potion it is deliberate and they have done their research and know what results to expect. It's the unintentional mistakes that I worry about. Cheering solution should be completely harmless. If this is what Weasley's carelessness and lack of attention does to it, what will he create next year when we start on actually complicated potions? Poison? An explosion? A summoning potion? I can't monitor every move he makes in my class, Albus. I'm already doing that with Longbottom. Having two such incompetents in the same class is unconscionable."

"We've been over this, Severus." Dumbledore sighed. "I am aware of your concerns, but splitting the Potions classes would mean doubling the number of lessons. It'd mess up the schedules and require at least one more classroom equipped for Potions, not to mention an additional teacher. You know how difficult it is to find a good Potions teacher."

"I'm just saying you should consider it in the interest of the students' safety." Snape said. "Now talking about additional classrooms ..."

There was a pause during which Dumbledore probably checked Professor Vector's schedule.

"Available in the fifth lesson." the headmaster reported finally. "Third and fourth will have to be cancelled, though."

"I'll put up a notice." Snape promised. "Thank you Albus."

"Come up for chess afterwards?" Dumbledore suggested.

"Maybe once we've found out how to turn Mr. Malfoy back."

 

"How can anybody be that stupid?" Fred Weasley groaned.

"Moreover how can someone that stupid be our brother?" George Weasley added.

The twins had been plotting in the common room when the third years had arrived. Apparently they were skipping History of Magic, which was no problem at all as they'd assured Hermione. Binns never realised if someone said 'here' twice and even if he did, he'd take down the wrong name anyway. Let Dumbledore try to owl the parents of a non-existent student. Didn't bother the twins at all.

"One hundred points." Dean repeated sadly. "We'll never win the house cup now."

"Win?" Seamus laughed bitterly. "It'd take a miracle not to be last."

"Ah, don't take it so hard, kids." Fred comforted them.

"At least now we can behave as badly as we want." George added. "After all, who's going to care how many more points we lose."

Ron smiled at his brothers gratefully, but unfortunately his classmates weren't as forgiving.

"I told you it was a bad idea to mess around with a potion." Hermione scolded. "Why don't you ever listen to me? Snape isn't a vampire and even if he were just putting garlic into a potion wouldn't kill him."

"Except if the potion were a poison." Fred interrupted her lecture.

"Yes, garlic is one really practical ingredient." George confirmed. "With it you can prank someone without having to trick them into eating anything."

"You already knew what it does?" Harry gasped.

"Of course, we know." Fred answered. "We've used it lots of times."

"Oh, why didn't you warn me then?" Ron whined.

"Well, little brother," George put on a very serious look. "We'd have loved to, but ..."

"... you didn't tell us what you were planning." Fred finished equally sorrowfully.

"How should we have known that you're stupid enough to deliberately mess up a potion?" George finished.

"But you do it all the time!" Ron accused.

"Yes, well, we don't throw random ingredients into random potions, though." Fred explained.

"We always read up on the potions first and check what combinations fit the intended effect." George said.

"And most of the time we use a pre-existing recipe from the library anyway." Fred added.

"That way we know that it'll work." George finished.

"See, even your brothers agree that messing with potions is a bad idea." Hermione pointed out.

"Traitors." Ron mumbled. "I can't believe you of all people would support Snape."

"Well, maybe that's because Snape is right." Neville snapped. "You could kill someone by mixing the wrong ingredients together. At least I never do it on purpose."

"It has nothing to do with Snape." Fred defended himself. "It's the logical thing to do."

"I hope Snape was able to turn Malfoy back." Harry said.

"Why?" Seamus grinned. "Being a cat only improves him."

"Yes, but what happens, if they can't turn him back?" Lavender asked. "What if they take even more points?"

"I'm not worried about points." Harry shook his head. "I'm worried about the Slytherins' revenge."

"And if they can't turn him back, they'll have to inform his parents." Hermione added. "Can you imagine Lucius Malfoy's reaction?"

"Well," George grinned. "First he'll go to the minister."

"Then to the Daily Prophet." Fred said.

"And then he'll come right here ..."

"... and demand Dumbledore's dismissal."

"I'm dead." whined Ron. "They'll expel me and Mum will kill me."

"Well, you should have thought about that sooner." Harry declared. "Did you think they wouldn't expel you, if you killed Snape?"

"He has a point, you know." Fred was still grinning.

"Yes, you'd better not tell Mum what your original plan was." George agreed.

"Better say it was just a prank." Fred suggested.

"And pretend you meant to spread correct cheering solution in the classroom."

"How did you turn cheering solution into a transformation potion anyway?" Fred asked. "We don't even know how to do that."

"Because you're the big Potions experts now?" Hermione asked.

"Well, we definitely know more than third years." George stated.

"And it's one class we haven't received any Ts in yet." Fred added.

Ron trudged up the stairs to the dorm to check whether he had anything in there that might be of use in one of his afternoon classes. He didn't feel like telling the twins about his crucifix. Maybe there was a way to retrieve it tomorrow along with his book bag? Metal didn't dissolve in water after all, so it had to still be in there. All he had to do was fish it out of the remains of his melted cauldron and his family would never have to know he'd used it in a 'prank'.

His search proved quite successful. There was an old, rather ruffled looking quill in his nightstand, his books on the floor next to his bed and some parchment at the bottom of his trunk. The only thing that was missing was ink, but he supposed he could share somebody else's ink pot.

Oh, and he didn't have a bag to carry it all in.

But Ron was creative. He grabbed last year's Weasley jumper, cast a sewing charm on the bottom, stuffed the books through the neck-hole and tied the arms around his belly. There, an instant bag and he even had his hands free.

He threw the makeshift construction onto his bed and went out to the Quidditch pitch to fly some until lunch.

 

"What's that?" Poppy Pomfrey asked when Professor Severus Snape stormed into her office and placed the transformed Draco Malfoy on her desk.

Severus whirled around and cast a locking charm on the door, then turned again to face her.

"That is a kitten." he stated as if it were obvious.

Poppy regarded the creature. "A little big for a house cat. And those paws are huge."

"Whoever said anything about a house cat?" Severus smirked at her. "It's a Catar kitten."

Poppy glanced from the kitten, to Snape and back again.

"It's a baby?" she gasped. "Yours?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "No, he's a student. Catar don't have a cat form until puberty, just claws. When they start transforming it takes them about a week to gain control over it. So I need your help."

"Help? Help with what?" The kitten was cute, she decided, but not nearly as impressive as the adult.

"Mostly to keep him out of sight for that time and confirm that he was transformed into a common house cat by a potions accident." Snape explained.

"And pretend that it takes that long until a simple transformation potion wears off?" Madam Pomfrey frowned.

"Ah, but it wasn't a simple transformation potion." Severus grinned at her. "Mr. Weasley must have messed up completely and invented a completely new potion which we are unfortunately unable to re-create. We will be forced to experiment with various cures until we get it right."

The nurse still didn't look very happy.

"Poppy, I can't let the Templar or Albus see him." Severus pleaded. "Saint Aignon would never be fooled into mistaking a Catar for a house cat and Albus would try to recruit him for the war, which will expose him to the Templar."

"What if you just explained to Sir Fulko that ..."

"Explain?" Severus laughed bitterly. "Reason with a Templar? I might as well Avada Kedavra us both right here and now. At least that would be a fast and painless death which is a lot better than anything we can expect from your glorious church."

"Have you ever actually tried to reason with them?" Poppy demanded.

"Have you ever tried to reason with the Death Eaters?" Severus shot back. "I'm sure somebody has, though I have never met a Catar who'd talked to a Templar and lived to tell the tale."

"You've spoken with Sir Fulko more than once yourself." Poppy pointed out.

"As one human teacher to another when I couldn't avoid it. Even Albus rarely speaks his mind with him around and for good reason."

"Alright, so maybe Sir Fulko isn't the best choice of Templar." Poppy allowed. "Perhaps it would be best to approach the Grandmaster himself."

"Only if you have a strong death wish." snorted Severus.

"So, can I leave Draco with you?" he asked when Poppy didn't say anything more.

"Very well." the nurse sighed. "But what do I feed him? Cat food?"

"Of course not!" Severus exclaimed scandalised. "He'll be able to turn himself back after he manages once."

"Then why can't he attend classes?" Poppy sighed.

"Because he won't be able to control when he transforms again. What if it happens during a Religion lesson? Or in the middle of dinner? The fewer people see his cat-form the less risk somebody will recognise him for what he is."

"Very well, I'll set up a privacy screen." Poppy agreed. "And you" she turned to Draco. "stay behind it. Is that clear?"

"Mew!" didn't quite seem to satisfy her, so Draco nodded as best he could in his new body.

He felt quite terrible by now. It was one thing to dream of being a Catar and quite a different one to suddenly find oneself in a cat-body. Unlike in his dreams he didn't know how to control this body at all and the whole world looked so ... so different at this angle.

"You wouldn't happen to have a floor length mirror we could borrow, would you?" Snape asked the nurse.

"Oh. really Severus!" Pomfrey snorted and waved her wand at a nearby cupboard transfiguring its door into a mirror.

"Thank you, Poppy." Severus said calmly and picked up Draco to place him on the floor in front of the mirror. "There, take a good look so you can picture yourself."

Draco looked. He looked rather chubby and fluffy for a huge, deadly cat. He doubted whether a mouse would be very impressed.

'Fluff-ball would be more like it.' he decided.

The worst part was his tail, though. It stuck up stiffly like a big dirty-white brush.

"Mew!" he complained, but Professor Snape remained unimpressed.

"Okay, now close your eyes." he instructed. "Can you picture yourself?"

Draco nodded again.

"And can you picture your human body?"

Another nod.

"Then imagine one turning into the other."

Draco tried, but exactly what was the change supposed to look like? He tried switching between the two pictures very fast.

"Concentrate on the change."

Draco concentrated willing himself to change.

Nothing happened.

"This isn't working." Poppy decided after what seemed like hours. “Are you sure he’s picturing it correctly?”

“Can you picture the change clearly?” Snape demanded accordingly.

Draco shook his head. “Mewl!”

“Well, have you ever paid attention to how a Catar transformed?”

“Mew?”

“Have you ever watched another Catar transform?” Poppy translated.

Head shake.

“Do you know other Catar?” Snape asked.

Shake.

"Ah, there’s our problem." Snape realised. "He must have inherited it from his mother’s side. That’s why Lucius and Narcissa let him come to school despite his approaching first transformation. They’re human and didn’t recognise the signs. Only one way to solve this. Look at me, Rascal!"


	7. Chapter 6: A Cat's Day

Chapter 6: A Cat's Day

 

Draco opened his eyes again and blinked up at Snape. His cat eyes appeared to be a little oversensitive to light.

And then his teacher seemed to melt into something smaller and furry and ...

"Mew!" Draco surprised even himself by throwing himself forwards at the big black cat.

He tumbled into a heap at Snape's front legs and slung all four paws around the closest big black one. Madame Pomfrey stifled a snicker as Snape looked down at the kitten with a slightly puzzled Catar frown.

Draco belatedly remembered that he was supposed to watch not hug his elder, but something deep within him didn't want to let go.

A big black head bent down towards him, gave him a single, quick lick between his ears and then strong fangs gripped his neck fur and lifted him. Draco's body fell limp, paws dangling, but the very next moment he was placed back on the floor in front of the mirror.

A slight swipe of one huge black paw as if to say 'Now, pay attention.' and then Snape transformed back.

"Did you see that?" he demanded. "Then try to imagine yourself doing it."

Draco closed his eyes again and tried to picture a blond fluff-ball melting into his proper body. Plop!

"Ouch." he declared more out of surprise than hurt when he fell flat on his belly. His very human belly.

"Excellent." Snape declared. "And now back to cat."

"What?" Draco gasped. "I only just managed to become human again! Why should I turn back into that ugly fluff-ball?"

"I think you looked very cute as a kitten." Madame Pomfrey encouraged.

"Because you need to practise transforming in order to learn to control it." Snape sneered. "In an emergency you can't afford to close your eyes and concentrate on the change. It must come as naturally as breathing."

"Like I'd want to turn into a helpless fluff-ball in an emergency." Draco sneered back.

"Using your cat body will require some practise as well, but it is anything but helpless." Snape lectured. "Besides your claws, your cat form also has fangs, superior senses, speed and dexterity and the strength and weight of even a half grown Catar is nothing to scoff at. Oh, and there's the added bonus of looking scary. A lot of creatures have been known to turn tail and run at the mere sight of their intended prey transforming."

"Well, that's all very fine and good for you." Draco pouted. "You're a big, sleek panther. I doubt anybody would find a blond fluff-ball scary."

"You'll grow out of the 'fluff-ball'-stage soon enough." Snape assured him. "Though it'll take four to five years before you reach your full adult size and weight. Judging from your paws, I suspect you'll surpass my height in only two or three years, by the way. You're the most promising looking kitten I've ever seen."

A slight purr escaped Draco at that thought.

Snape shot him an angry look. "Not if you go around purring at people, though. That's one sure way to end up in some murderous Templar's torture chamber instead."

Draco shuddered.

"And your size will avail you nothing, if you don't have the skill to use your body to its full potential." the professor continued. "The sharpest claws are useless, if you're too clumsy to hit your opponent. And the only way to gain skill is by practise. The more you practise transforming and using your body, the easier and more precise your co-ordination will become."

"As fluff-ball." Draco complained.

"I believe I named you Rascal." Snape returned calmly.

"And I named it Fluff-ball." Draco pouted.

"Don't you know anything?" Snape asked incredulously. "You can't name yourself. It's an ancient tradition that every new kitten receives his true name from the first adult that sees him."

"My true name is Draco Malfoy." Draco pointed out.

"No, that's the name of your human shape. An alias to give to humans. Your true name is that of your cat form: Rascal." Snape insisted. "Didn't your father tell you that?"

"My father didn't tell me anything. What do you expect? I only just became a Catar. I didn't even know what that is until I returned to school this year."

"Became?" Snape shouted. "One doesn't become a Catar. You're either born as one, or you aren't. And just why did you think you had claws, if you didn't know you were a Catar?"

Draco stared at him open-mouthed. "Claws?"

Snape unsheathed his claws and held them up for inspection. "Seem familiar?"

Draco let his own claws snap out and stared down at them. "So I've got claws." he admitted. "Doesn't everybody?"

Snape sighed long-sufferingly. "No, only Catar do. Didn't you ever wonder why you never saw them on anybody else?"

"Well, father said it was very bad manners to unsheathe them. Like running around naked or something."

"I think, I need to have a very long talk with my dear old friend Lucius." Snape decided. "And now transform. I haven't got all day."

 

Indeed despite the cancelled classes it ended up being a very busy day for Raven. It took almost until lunch time to teach Rascal how to deliberately take on his cat-form. Raven could only hope that there wasn't anything seriously wrong with the kitten himself.

Thirteen was rather early for a male kitten to transform and maybe that had something to do with it. Then there was Rascal's dislike for his kittenish cute body. A lack of determination to succeed could hamper one's learning ability quite badly.

And there was the fact that Raven had lamentably little experience teaching kittens to transform. Catar parents knew better than to allow their kittens out among humans at this vulnerable time. Those he had met in his years at Hogwarts had usually feigned a family emergency to excuse themselves from school, though he'd also taught some kittens who'd been kept home for an entire school year under the pretence of a serious illness. By the time the kittens had returned to Hogwarts they'd been quite capable of transforming at will and too proud to want any help from a disgraced exile anyway.

All he really had were his memories of being taught these things himself and not everything that had worked on him had to be right for every kitten. Maybe there were other methods that Rascal would have responded to much better. How he wished there were someone he could ask, but Nightstalker was dead and there was nobody else to turn to.

Of course he remembered the kittens he'd taught and they must have recognised him as a fellow Catar as well, but none of them had ever acknowledged it. They were probably all clanless strays like Rascal anyway. Raven doubted that there were any functioning clans left in Britain and if they were they were probably teaching their kittens themselves. The Sacred Forrest Clan had always been the only one with an easy way to trick the book into listing their children under false human addresses.

The spell that allowed them to tap into the book's magic was as old as the book itself. Rumour had it that Salazar himself had placed it during the books creation. If clan legend could be believed Rowena Ravenclaw had been entrusted with finding a way to identify potential students and contacting them and the artefact to find them had been one of her biggest projects. There'd been an ongoing rivalry between her and Salazar from the very beginnings of the school and the minor act of sabotage had been little more than a prank at the time. It had become a life saver when the Templars took control of the wizarding world and the Catar had manipulated the book not to show any entries containing their clan addresses at all.

Only the Sacred Forrest Clan had the knowledge to activate the spell so they could add one of their kittens under a false address, though. With the communication lines between the clans the chances of another clan to send a kitten to Hogwarts had been lost which meant that whatever kittens did show up at the school nowadays had been raised among either wizards or muggles and were unlikely to have as much knowledge as the old clans had taught.

Whatever the cause Rascal's slow progress had prevented Raven from keeping his promise to the headmaster. By the time he left the hospital wing Dumbledore was already on the way to the great hall. It supported his story that turning Draco back was more difficult than anticipated, but also caused Albus to worry for the boy.

It took all of his talent at persuasion to convince the headmaster that paying a personal visit to Draco in his current state would only embarrass the boy. Having to have that conversation over dinner aroused the curiosity of the rest of the staff and now the motherly Professor Sprout was also threatening to sneak into the hospital wing to comfort the 'poor baby'.

Luckily Poppy was very adept at dealing with the head of Hufflepuff and Raven hoped that the nurse would be able to head her off. Even if Sprout got through to Draco and happened to see a transformation, Raven doubted that she'd recognise a Catar kitten, if Poppy swore it was a misshapen house cat. She could probably be convinced that it was some unusual breed, he supposed.

Of course he needed to discus that strategy with the nurse first, but heading right back to the hospital wing after the meal would only stir up the headmaster's concerns again and his continued absence would make the Slytherins nervous.

Instead he spent the rest of lunch break in the common room answering the students' worried questions about Draco's condition and convincing the first years that such accidents were a very rare occurrence at Hogwarts and that there was no danger of something similar happening to them. Judging from the grins of some of the older students as he explained Ron Weasley's unique incompetence the boy would be teased about it for weeks to come.

He stopped by his office after that and found a line of second year Gryffindors and two Hufflepuffs waiting outside the locked Potions classroom despite his note on the door. Some pointed remarks on the intelligence of twelve year olds who were unable to read sent them scurrying away, but there was still a sixth year Ravenclaw waiting outside his office who wasn't as easy to get rid of.

Despite Snape's best effort at being unpleasant she insisted that she wanted to make up for a missed lesson and a botched potion. The girl desperately wanted an O in Potions this year, though Severus didn't quite understand why. It wasn't like anybody ever looked at sixth year grades. Employers wanted to see OWLs and NEWTs and if they were very meticulous the seventh or fifth year grades, depending on when the student had left school.

It took a while to convince her that he didn't have a spare Potions lab where she could work unsupervised, but they finally agreed on an essay about a theoretical research topic of her choice.

"Think of it as a practise run for your thesis." he advised. "Something more professional and detailed than a simple school-girl's essay." That should keep her busy for a while.

Then he found out that she should have been in Religion class all that time and expected him to write her a note for Sir Saint Aignon.

"Well, it's only Religion." she explained with a shrug. "We never learn anything really important there."

He did in fact write a three feet long letter of apology informing the Templar that he'd been unaware whose class she should have been in or how long they would take or he would have made an appointment for a more convenient time and sent her on her way. Hopefully that would suffice to keep Saint Aignon out of his hair even if it wouldn't save the girl from his wrath.

That done he finally returned to the hospital wing to find that Professor Sprout had already been there and seen a very human Draco.

"I told her I'm still very dizzy and turning into a cat at irregular intervals and Madame Pomfrey pushed her out whispering something about coughing up fur-balls." Draco explained wrinkling his nose in disgust.

The nurse had apparently also found the time to check a book on Catar physiology out of the library's restricted section and after a first glance through the chapter on adolescence Rascal seemed to view his transformation in a more positive light and was willing to attempt standing and walking in his cat form.

Unfortunately right now was a bad time for that as the Weasley twins had invaded the hospital wing claiming to have accidentally hexed each other, but most likely hoping to catch a glimpse of Draco as a cat.

Severus reminded them that he expected them in class with their homework completed in less than one hour and after Poppy removed the horns from their foreheads she sent them off to whatever class they were missing.

Raven had his doubts whether they would arrive there.

Rascal's ability to transform remained unreliable and his control of his paws didn't seem to improve at all. An attempt to demonstrate a proper walk on all fours caused the kitten to latch on to Raven's tail tip with a gleeful mewl. Raven decided that he needed to go out and find some twitchy toys for him to catch. Apparently the poor thing had never been given the chance to live out his capturing instincts before and Raven had no time to dangle his tail about for him all day. How different from Raven’s happy kittenhood in the forest must it be to grow up having to hide ones instincts from suspicious humans all the time!

Back in human form Rascal was full of questions about Catar religion and Raven realised that he would have to learn the rites and rituals as well as proper body control, if he was ever going to be a proper priest. Now was no time consider that problem, however, because he had a fifth year class to teach and he still needed to get a hold of Lucius who was his last hope of transferring Rascal's problems on somebody else. Teaching a kitten the basic survival skills was the duty of its parents.

With his thoughts still on Rascal's training Raven hastened to the second Potions classroom to set up for his lesson, but soon realised that he'd miscalculated the time it would take him to locate the required equipment in an unfamiliar storeroom.

It wasn't like he'd never been here before and Professor Vector was very neat with her ingredients, possibly more so than he, but she used a different sorting system. In his own domain he could find any ingredient with his eyes closed. Here he had to look for them.

The stores themselves weren't nearly as large as his own thankfully. They only contained the ingredients that were really necessary to teach Professor Vector's classes, which meant first to fifth year Potions. Vector wasn't a Potions Mistress, nor did she have enough of an interest in the subject to engage in research or brewing of her own. Her true calling was Arithmancy which she taught at an almost equally demanding level as Severus did Potions.

She was a talented brewer nevertheless and a very good teacher and prepared her students adequately for the OWL exams. As far as Albus Dumbledore was concerned that was all that was needed, though Severus regularly complained how far behind the sixth year classes he inherited from her were compared to the students he'd taught from the start.

Still it couldn't be helped. Twenty-five hours of school a week weren't enough for one Potions teacher to teach fourteen classes, most of which had three lessons a week. Thus for the first five years half of Hogwarts' students were taught Potions by Professor Vector and Severus was secretly glad to have such competent help. He didn't even want to imagine what it would be like, if the school's second Potions teacher were as incompetent as last year's DADA disaster Gilderoy Lockhart.

Now if only he could find where Vector kept her water-lily stems ...

He was still looking for the last ingredient when the students arrived and the fifth years were unusually noisy even for them. Only after he rushed out to threaten them did he realise what they were so excited about. He might not have worked in this room often, but they'd most likely never been here before at all. They'd never had Potions with Professor Vector and nobody else used the room, if it could be avoided. The Potions equipment was just too risky to have around in a class that didn't need it. Some students might get foolish ideas like seeing how long the fire proof charms on their tables could withstand the strongest fire spell they could cast while their teacher's back was turned.

Under the circumstances stronger methods were needed to reduce the noise level and improve the students' concentration. Severus informed the class that their lack of discipline was appalling, deducted a total of fifty points from their houses, moved the Weasley twins to opposite corners of the room and Lee Jordan to a third and finally assigned every Gryffindor a Ravenclaw neighbour.

Then he sent Frederick Weasley to find the water-lily stems and Antonia Nightwind to collect the homework assignments, not without remarking that he hoped this batch of essays would be at least marginally better than their catastrophic last results. That reduced the noise level considerably, especially in those areas where the weaker writers sat.

Still the students were a lot less concentrated than usual and Severus was seething by the end of the lesson. Rudy Emmerson's potion reacted positively to three different poison checking spells, the contents of Martin Crowley's cauldron evaporated ten minutes before the end of the lesson, Lee Jordan accidentally spilled his potion into the fire under his neighbour's cauldron ruining both their work and Andrew Doran caused a minor explosion while Severus was dealing with George Weasley who'd been about to make the same mistake.

None of these students was usually incompetent, but it was George's mistake that got to Severus the most. The Weasley twins would probably have been very surprised to hear that their Potions teacher as aware of their plan to go into the joke item developing business someday, but it was an important detail to Severus. The twins might not intend to ever go for a traditional apprenticeship, but would need to have the skills of professional brewers nevertheless. They couldn't afford to be distracted by being forced to work in a different environment.

The class of course grumbled about his being unfair to the Gryffindors when he took five points of Doran and assigned George a detention. Severus glared them into silence. He didn't have to explain himself to them and it wasn't like one detention more or less was going to do a Weasley irreparable psychological harm.

He'd give George some medical potions to brew for the hospital wing, he decided as he closed up the room after the lesson. Not one of the standard household potions like pepper-up, though, that would be useful to Poppy, but not to the boy. He'd have to find something the nurse could use that would constitute a challenge, but not be too difficult. Maybe a NEWT-level potion using garlic, he thought with a slight smirk.

He had time until Monday to think of a task for George, though. Right now he needed to talk to Lucius.

Halfway to his office he ran into Minerva McGonagall who informed him that they were expected at another emergency order meeting in the headmaster's office. Apparently there were more bad news.

As if he didn't have enough problems already! At least there wasn't any other order work today that couldn't wait.

With a sigh he turned around and followed Minerva to Albus' office.

The Templer sat in his favourite chair and didn't look friendly, not that the later was at all unusual.

"Keeping students from my class, Severus?" Saint Aignon grumbled by way of greeting.

"I found her at my door after class had already started whining about wanting to make up for a missed lesson." he snarled back. "How was I supposed to know it wasn't her study hour?"

"Oh, so she wants to make up missed Potions work, but doesn't care about her soul, does she? Fine priorities your students have."

"She's a Ravenclaw." Severus stated. "Her personal priorities aren't my business. I just teach her Potions. Take it up with Filius."

"Your Slytherins aren't much better." the Templar snapped.

"My students are skipping your classes?" Severus asked. "That's news to me, but if you give me their names, I'll set them straight."

"They're not skipping." Saint Aignon admitted. "They're even usually on time, but they don't pay proper attention in class."

"I can't say I've heard any such complaints from their other teachers unless you count Lockhart." Severus smirked. "Perhaps your lesson contains too little new information to hold their interest?"

"Severus, Fulko, please!" Albus stepped between them. "Important as your concerns might be this is not the time. There are life and death matters to be discussed."

"The students' immortal souls are more important than their lives." Saint Aignon protested.

"If Voldemort wins, there probably won't be Religion classes they can attend at all anymore." Albus reminded him. "How many souls would be lost then? And right now the situation doesn't look good. We have made several attempts to sneak invisible ships through the death eaters' siege, but none have reached Azkaban. Two were even sunk completely, though most of the crewmen managed to apparate to safety in time."

"We always knew he'd probably be prepared for that manoeuvre." Severus commented. "So we send in the submarine now."

"That's the problem." Ablbus sighed. "We have to organise a submarine first. Cornelius has been unable to find one for us. It seems the Muggle Prime Minister doesn't see a way to secretly move such large military equipment around."

"But who said it has to be a military submarine?" Tonks asked. "Has he tried contacting Muggle scientists? What about those tourist submarines they take people to see fish in? We can equip it with shield charms ourselves and it doesn't need guns."

"Indeed, that's what I was thinking, too." the headmaster agreed. "However I don't know where to find those. Therefore I'm asking all of you to ask your various contacts and Muggle born friends and students whether they know anybody who has a submarine."

"You do realise that, if anything about this gets back to the death eaters they are going to know our plan and will take measures to stop us, don't you?" Severus asked. "Not all Muggle borns are trustworthy, some of our contacts even less so."

"I wasn't thinking of your contacts, Severus, or yours, Remus." Albus nodded to the werewolf. "But perhaps you could set your students essays about Muggle relatives, or Muggle technology in some inconspicuous way."

"Inconspicuous?" Minerva gasped. "Albus just how do you imagine we do that? What do Muggle relatives or sub-whatevers have to do with Transfigurations? Or Potions, or DADA for that matter. The only subject such a topic would look natural in is Muggle Studies and do you know how many Muggle Borns, or even half bloods take that? It's a class for those students who have little to no contact with Muggles."

"I could question my house's first years under the pretence of getting to know them and their backgrounds." Severus suggested. "It would be extremely suspicious, if I tried that with the older students, though."

"I could talk about Muggle technology in some classes." Lupin decided. "It's not dark arts related, but does present a danger to the unwary wizard. Submarines could come up as a danger to wizards in or on the sea, but bringing such a remote topic up in all my classes at the same time would draw attention."

"It could be a project for the sixth and fourth years, but not the younger students who are still learning the basics, or the fifth and seventh years who are preparing for their OWLs or NEWTs." Severus agreed.

"The fourth years are so hopelessly behind in their studies that I don't dare set them a project." Lupin sighed. "Most of them just barely master second year level, even many sixth and seventh years aren't up to OWL level from what I've seen so far."

"The sixth years, then." the headmaster sighed. "A discussion or essay in Muggle Studies and the first years will be questioned by their heads of house. Perhaps Hagrid can bring up water creatures in Care for Magical Creatures and pretend to think submarines are alive."

"I doubt he can act that well." Saint Aignon frowned. "And he's likely to give everything away, if we tell him. Just remember the sorcerer's stone."

"Not Hagrid then." Albus agreed. "Maybe I can manipulate Sybil into seeing a submarine in her crystal ball, though."

That shouldn't be too difficult, Severus thought. He'd hoped to get away before the Templar caught him and continued his tirade about the students' disinterest in his subject, but by the time the meeting ended dinner had started and Severus ended up sitting across from Saint Aignon for the meal.

He ended up promising to give a speech about the importance of Religion in the common room at a convenient time, which Saint Aignon interpreted as when as many students as possible were there and Raven considered a nice euphemism for never. There was always something one could consider inconvenient after all.

After dinner he stopped by the common room just to make sure that all his students were okay and was met with two crying first year girls one of which kept insisting the other ought to be expelled through her sobs.

At first it seemed like the other students didn't know what had happened between the two either, but finally one of their dormmates volunteered that the second girl's cat was suspected to have eaten the first ones toad and the grieving owner considered it impossible to share a dorm with the one responsible for the murderer.

Severus assured the cat owner that neither she nor her pet had to leave, if she saw to it that the animal was safely locked away from any other pets it might consider edible in the future then took the still crying former toad owner back to his office for some nerve calming potion and a big box of everyflavour beans.

It was lucky that he'd remembered to buy some treats for lactose intolerant students, as he used chocolate frogs most of the time and those would probably have reminded the girl of her lost familiar.

She finally calmed down a little, but not enough that Severus dared to question her for details about her familiar's disappearance. Raven wondered whether the toad's body had been found at all. Knowing cats as well as he did he doubted it had really been eaten. Toads tasted bad, so why would a pampered house cat even try? A starving stray he might have believed, but not a witch's familiar who received regular offerings of proper cat-food. He felt like spitting and shaking his paws at the very thought of eating toad.

Instead he sent the girl on her way with the promise to take her to the Hogsmeade pet shop himself, if her parents gave her permission to buy a new pet then leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath.

Having that talk with the first years today sounded like a bad idea after such an incident, which removed one item from his mental to do list for the day. That left visiting Rascal again, talking to Lucius and marking homework. And perhaps a trip to the Hogshead later tonight to catch up with any death eater gossip.

The fifth years' essays were still in his bag. One glance through the pile revealed that the Weasley twins' work was once again missing. Maybe he ought to assign both of them another detention for too many missed assignments.

He regarded the scrolls for a moment longer, then checked the time. If he wasn't going to a soiree today this ought to be a good time to catch Lucius and get the most unpleasant task over with.

He went into his private rooms, locked the door and cast several sound proofing charms on it, checked whether the air vents were all closed, then firecalled Malfoy Manor.

"Lucius? Are you home?"

"Lord Snape!" Lucius' most idiotic house elf appeared in the flames. "Niggy ises lookes for Master Malfoy rightes awayes. Pleases waites one momentes."

"Thank you." He'd given up trying to explain to this one that he was not a Lord or anything that fancy.

Less than a minute later the elf was back.

"Master Malfoy ises commes." it announced happily.

Indeed Lucius kicked it out of the way only moments later and stuck his head into the flames.

"Severus, old friend. So sorry to have kept you waiting. Important business, you see." It was in fact the fastest Raven had ever seen him reply to a call, if he wasn't actually in the room when it arrived. Apparently Lucius wanted something from him. "I hope Niggy kept you properly entertained."

"Of courses." Severus couldn't resist rolling his eyes at that. Lucius knew how much he hated the elf's bad English.

"Sorry." Lucius apologised with a slight smile. "She is an adequate servant, though, always eager to please."

"I know." Severus agreed. "And she did answer my call very promptly. I just don't like house elves in general. Their conversational skills are always lacking. I didn't call you to discuss you servants, though. Do you have time to step over for a little while? It wouldn't be comfortable for either of us to discuss this over the fire."

Lucius' eyes widened and he looked almost frightened for a moment. Then he nodded and stepped back to retrieve some floo powder. Seconds later he stepped out of Severus' fireplace casting a cleaning charm over himself while frowning at Severus' living room. Clearly this was below his usual standard.

"So what's so secret you can’t say it over the floo." he demanded when his eyes returned to Severus. "If you think I'll talk about the Lord's plans ..."

"No, this is strictly business." Raven assured him gesturing towards an old green armchair.

The piece of furniture might be shabby, but he doubted Lucius would object. Severus' armchairs were the two last survivors of a large number of identical chairs that had stood in the Slytherin common room in their student days. When the headmaster had had them replaced Severus had kept the two best preserved ones for his private use. They held some good memories for him and he suspected it was the same for Lucius.

Lucius frowned slightly, whether at Severus or the chair was unclear, but sat down.

"Business?" he asked. "I didn't think you'd be interested in anything I have to sell."

True enough, though Lucius probably meant to hint that he didn't have the money.

"Not your business, mine." Severus leaned back in his chair and enjoyed Lucius' puzzled look. He really shouldn't play with him in a situation like this.

"Teaching?" Lucius mocked.

"Raising children." Severus smirked. "One of which happens to be your own kitten."

Lucius snorted. "Draco is definitely not a kitten. A little dragon perhaps, that's why I named him that."

"No, he most definitely is a kitten, though he wasn't even aware of it until today." Severus insisted.

Lucius' look made it quite clear that he didn't understand the reference and Raven wondered just how much he actually knew about Catar. He quite obviously wasn't one. Like any trained Catar Raven could feel the distinct aura of magic that surrounded another of his kind. Untrained cats who didn't know how to draw on that power had a very weak aura that was hard to detect, but Raven was confident that he could feel even that, if he was looking for it. And he'd been feeling for Lucius' aura in vain ever since the wizard had arrived.

"Why didn't you warn me that the boy is a Catar?" he demanded straight out.

"He's not!" Lucius snapped, but his hands were shaking.

"He transformed in the middle of my class today." Raven stated calmly. "If I had known, I would have seen it coming, but I don't routinely check every student who's complaining of cold symptoms for being a Catar."

Lucius paled. "He transformed? But, but how? I swear I raised him to be a wizard, taught him to despise Transfigurations and weres and never, never to use his claws."

Raven laughed. "And that was supposed to change his nature? A Catar is a Catar and always will be, Lucius, just like a wizard is a wizard and a Muggle a Muggle. It is in our blood, our nature, our soul." he paused then smirked. "And Transfigurations has nothing at all to do with it. There's no relation whatsoever between Catar and animagi. The cat isn't a form we take, it is us. It's the human shape that is the mask."

"So what's going to happen to Draco?" Lucius asked fearfully. "Is there any way to free him, hide him?"

"Oh, you'll like this." Severus continued still wearing that same smirk. "I wasn't prepared for Draco's transformation, but managed to frame the youngest Weasley boy for it anyway. As far as the school is concerned Draco was transfigured into a house cat by the fumes of a messed up potion. Madame Pomfrey is in on it and sympathetic to our cause. She will confirm the story to anybody who asks and keep Draco out of sight until he has full control of his transformations."

Lucius thought that over, but still looked slightly worried. "But what if Weasley talks?"

"Ah, that's the beauty of it all." Severus grinned. "You see, Weasley really was messing with his potion and did use garlic in it, which means it could indeed affect anyone who breathed in the fumes. I'm quite sure that I have convinced even the boy himself of his guilt. He deliberately added two new ingredients to the recipe and made one obvious mistake. If he ever finds out that that couldn't have caused someone to transform, he'll just assume that he made another mistake without realising it."

"And you're sure Dumbledore won't see through it all?"

"Dumbledore is well enough versed in Potions to know the properties of garlic. He hasn't seen Draco and trusts in Madame Pomfrey's expertise." Severus returned. "Why would he believe the boy over her?"

"If you are going to expel the son of one of his friends ..."

"Who said anything about expelling him? I never even accused Weasley of harming Draco on purpose. I just complained about his irresponsible behaviour and lack of talent. If he asks Weasley's family and friends, Albus will learn that the boy is immature and rash. He's the perfect scapegoat."

Lucius nodded. "Perhaps it's best, if I take Draco home, though." he mused. "Narcissa, the worried mother, has asked me, her devoted husband, to bring her only baby home to recover from the terrible trauma he suffered in the incident."

"The idea has merit." Severus agreed. "You are in contact with other Catar, I assume?" Please let him say yes!

"Catar, no. Alicia is the only Catar I ever met." Lucius grimaced. "Aside from Draco, that is."

"She left you no way to contact any of her relatives?"

"She never even mentioned any relatives other than her parents who were already dead when I met her. But that's only good for Draco. If there are no other Catar there's less risk that he'll be suspected."

"Maybe so, but it also means that you don't have anyone to guide him, teach him how to use his cat-form." Raven shook his head. "No, it's better if he stays here where I can keep an eye on him."

"He isn't going to need his cat-form, so why does he need to learn how to use it?" Lucius returned. "He's a fine, pureblood wizard and will live his life as that. He'll inherit the manor ..."

"And continue the family line." Severus finished for him. "Only that all his descendants will be Catar, no matter how many generations of witches you breed in. There is no such thing as a half-Catar, Lucius. Anyone with a Catar parent is a Catar. At the moment Draco isn't even able to control his transformations. He could turn into a cat anytime and anywhere. He doesn't understand his own body, or know how to protect himself from discovery. Those are things he and his descendants will have to know and can learn only from their own kind."

Lucius regarded Severus in silence for a while.

"I'll need another son." he said finally.

"You can't mean to disinherit Draco, just because ...."

"I won't, but he will have to remain childless. Then the manor can pass to his brother, or his brother's children after his death."

"Draco might want to have children someday."

"He will understand." Lucius declared. "This is a question of the family's safety, its survival. I should never have married that woman."

"She was a good wife to you, if I remember correctly." Severus stated. "And she gave you the son you wanted. You have always been proud of Draco, haven't you? He takes after you in so many ways."

"But after his mother in that one vital thing."

"There was never a chance that he wouldn't." Severus told him once again. "Catar don't have human children. Its part of the Catar magic."

"Catar magic." Lucius repeated with a slight snort. "Are there spells Draco can cast that I can't?"

"Can cast, no." Severus smiled. "But there are ones he can learn and you can't."

Now Lucius looked interested.

"And where," he began slowly. "might I find those?"

"In the head of an adult Catar." Raven grinned evilly at him. "It's not something you can learn from a book. I told you Draco needs another Catar to teach him." He added when he saw Lucius' look.

"And do you know any Catar?"

"Ah Lucius, my sly friend, I do believe you haven't been listening to me at all."


	8. Chapter 7: Of Fire And Outside Magic

Chapter 7: Of Fire And Outside Magic

 

"I'm talking to you, Hermione!" Ron yelled loud enough to attract the attention of almost the entire great hall.

"You might try swallowing before talking." his sister Ginny advised.

"Or apologising." Fred Weasley added. "Girls love apologies."

Hermione beamed at Fred.

A single Weasley twin was a rare and somehow incomplete sight, but somehow George had managed to get detention with Snape without his brother. To Harry's surprise that appeared to have hit Fred worse than George. It wasn't possible that the Weasley twins actually enjoyed Snape's detentions, was it?

Ron glared at his brother. "I don't have anything to apologise for."

"No?" Neville asked glancing at Hermione. "She looks like she wants an apology to me."

"You can always apologise for being an idiot." Harry suggested looking up from his pudding. "Can't go wrong with that."

Even Neville swore he had no idea what the pair had quarrelled over this time, but it was a record even for them. They'd only made up after the Potions incident three hours before their latest falling out.

"Are you sure you even want to be friends with him, if you're always quarrelling?" Harry asked the girl.

"Actually right now I'm quite sure I don't want to be friends with The Idiot." Hermione returned with a bright artificial smile.

"Yes, definitely apologise for being an idiot." Fred nodded sagely.

"That would be a start, but I'd rather he'd apologise for what he did." Hermione told the Weasley twin. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I've got research to do in the library."

"What did you do?" Fred asked his little brother as Hermione stalked away.

"Oh nothing at all." Ron shrugged. "I only sat on her Arithmancy homework. It was barely even wrinkled."

Arithmancy was Hermione's new favourite subject, though Harry didn't quite understand why. It was terribly complicated and he wished he hadn't chosen it. Or Muggle Studies for that matter. Maybe it had been a bad idea to simply take the same electives as Neville. He'd heard that Divination was much easier than Arithmancy and Care for Magical Creatures sounded interesting while he already knew everything about Muggles. After all he'd grown up in a Muggle family.

Neville's Gran however had felt that the Creatures would be too dangerous for the clumsy boy and Divination was worthless in her opinion, so Neville had been forced to take Arithmancy and choose between Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies for his second elective.

Harry sighed. He couldn't even claim that Muggle Studies had been a bad choice for his best friend. No doubt it was a fascinating subject, if you'd lived in a wizarding household all your life.

Harry and even Hermione were bored to death during the lessons however.

"Hey look!" Neville exclaimed startling Harry out of his thoughts. "It's Malfoy." he continued more softly nodding towards the door.

Indeed it looked like Draco Malfoy had finally been released from the hospital wing. Harry smiled.

"Well, not even a tiny whisker left on him to make fun of." he commented.

"Lucky for Ron." Neville declared. "Maybe his revenge won't be as ...."

"Meow!" Ron called out just as Malfoy passed their table.

The Slytherin shot around and grabbed the Gryffindor's collar.

"Did you know," he purred in perfect cat-style. "That cats have the sharpest claws of all creatures? And that's nothing compared to our teeth."

"Just imagine if Malfoy really had claws, eh." Harry whispered to Neville.

To his surprise Neville actually shuddered.

"Oh, you want to bite me?" Ron challenged. "Lets see just how poisonous a snake you are."

"That will be enough from you two." Professor McGonagall stepped in. "Mr. Malfoy, if you want any dinner you'd better get to your table now. Mr. Weasley, finish your food before it gets cold."

The boys glared at each other, but obeyed. Ron speared a large potato with his fork and stuffed it into his moth.

"Dan iph rhmy iff gold." he complained.

Harry wondered whether it was worth asking him to repeat himself, but got distracted by the cheers that welcomed Malfoy back to the Slytherin table. That ugly tart Parkinson even hugged him!

Then the Slytherin boys stuck their heads together. From over here Harry couldn't hear a thing, but he suspected that they were whispering eagerly.

"They're up to something." he told Neville.

"I wouldn't worry about it." Neville returned. "They've got their revenge on Ron to plan." He glanced at Harry's empty plate. "Finished? Then what do you think about a game of gobstones? Maybe Seamus and Dean will want to play, too. Then we could have a miniature tournament."

"I really should write that Transfigurations essay." Harry hesitated. "But I suppose a quick game can't hurt."

"Hey wait! What about me!" Ron called after them. "I want to play, too."

 

Severus watched as Draco happily shredded an old moth eaten robe and winced every time he heard the scratching of claws on stone. Even in human shape the kitten was clumsy with his claws. He wondered how he'd explain away the deep scratches in his floor and wall next time Albus decided to visit. Maybe he ought to cover them up.

Get a rug? Move furniture? Both would attract attention, especially from someone who knew him as well as the headmaster did. Perhaps he should ask the house elves for help.

"You may be able to control when you transform now," he sneered at the kitten. "But what about the speed and sequence of the transformation? You can't transform partially either and you're still the clumsiest cat I've ever seen."

Draco stopped playing and pouted up at him. "We've been practising for two hours now." he complained. "Surely that's enough for one day." he hesitated. "Unless you want to let me chase your tail again. I could do that all day."

Raven could feel his tail twitch even though he didn't have one at the moment. Tail chasing was actually quite a good exercise for a kitten's reflexes, but Rascal's clumsiness made it a less than pleasant experience for the owner of the tail. The kitten simply didn't know how to pull his punches. His claws and teeth had repeatedly cut Raven's skin today and Poppy would most likely be shocked, if she saw the poor abused tail-tip now.

"Maybe we have been concentrating too much on your physical abilities." he agreed. "Your father hired me primarily to teach you Catar magic, but you should also know of our history, traditions and religion."

"Magic?" Draco looked bored. "I already know lots of spells."

"Human magic." Raven snorted. "We are more powerful than that."

"Powerful?" Now he had the kitten's full attention.

"Human wizards perform spells by pushing their inner magic outward and directing it with words and wands." he explained. "It's similar to transforming where we use our inner magic to shape our body. The magic within us is finite, though, and takes time to replenish afterwards. Powerful spells exhaust a wizard and can weaken him for days. There is much more magic without than within our bodies. Everything, even a Muggle, is surrounded by its own magic and when you use magic it isn't destroyed, just moved. The magic of every spell you cast is transferred to the object you cast it on and its surroundings. Therefore the outer magic is infinite. Humans can only access their inner magic, though there are some rare wizards who can sense outer magic."

"And we can draw on that outer magic?" Draco asked eagerly.

Raven regarded his 'apprentice' as Lucius insisted to term their relationship. "Yes, that is possible." he confirmed. "Most of the time it isn't the most effective method, though. We don't need to use our bodies or wands as conduits, you see. The fastest and most powerful way to work magic is to direct it from a distance either shaping it in its original place or moving it from its source straight to its target."

Draco blinked at him uncomprehendingly. It hadn't been a difficult concept to grasp for Raven, but he'd also known the theory long before he arrived at Hogwarts. He could only hope that two years of human magic casting hadn't completely spoiled Rascal's ability to conduct magic Catar style.

"See the fire?" he nodded towards his fireplace. "It is filled with the magic of its fire spirit."

"Its what?"

He shouldn't have mentioned that. Or maybe he should have explained nature spirits before starting to teach the kitten magic.

"Never mind. We'll get to that later." He couldn't drop everything on the boy at once. "There's magic already inside, so I don't need to add any to influence it. I just take the magic already there and make it raise the flames."

He lifted his hand and the flames shot up startling Draco who drew away from the fireplace with a startled yelp.

"Or lower them." Lowering his hand palm up he directed the fire downward, then made a quick swiping motion, left – right – left. "Or extinguish them entirely."

And just as easily he restarted the fire, though he didn't explain that part to the kitten. Let him stick to manipulating what was already there for now. You had to start small.

 

"Any leads on the Catar at least?" Albus Dumbledore asked Remus Lupin while he poured out the tea.

Remus shook his head. "You're asking the wrong person, Albus. Catar hate werewolves. If they are going to talk to us at all, they're not going to come through me."

Albus sighed. The news Remus had burst into his office with had shaken him. If the rumours among the werewolves were correct Voldemort would storm Azkaban any moment now and there were too few Aurors left on the island to hold him back for long.

For almost a week now the small submarine they'd borrowed from a maritime biologist had snuck in every day bringing as many supplies as it could carry and taking all the people it could hold out on its way back. They'd removed all of the death eaters and most of the other dark wizards and murderers from the prison, but two Auror guards had had to go with each of those shipments reducing the number of defenders.

They'd known that they couldn't hold the island, of course. That was the whole point of the evacuation. Still Dumbledore had hoped that they would have more time to get everybody out.

He'd considered sending in a shipment of Aurors or two to help with the defence, but that would mean just as many more shipments of people to get out again and the submarine just wasn't big enough to take any more.

The only solution he could see was to step up the evacuation. With some wakefulness spells the captain should be able to make two trips a day, three if he worked through the night. That way one day should be enough to get the rest of the really dangerous inmates out.

And then what? Most likely there wouldn't be enough time to evacuate everybody. Should they continue with the most difficult prisoners as planned, or just get the Aurors out and leave the prisoners to their fate? Was it more important to remove those prisoners who were most likely to support the death eaters, or to save those Voldemort would have no use for at all?

What to do, who to sacrifice? And what if they chose to abandon the last prisoners only to find that Remus' source had been wrong about the impending attack after all, that there would have been enough time to save everybody?

He hated it when he had to make that kind of choice.

"You should try talking to Severus again." Remus suggested. "He knows a lot more people in the underground than I."

"Severus?" Albus asked a little surprised. "He was quite adamant about not having heard anything about the Catar in years."

Remus shrugged. "I don't know. It's just a feeling I got when he said it. Something's telling me that he might have admitted to knowing someone he could ask, if the Templar hadn't been there."

"He doesn't like poor Fulko much." Albus allowed.

"Can't say I blame him." Remus said. "He probably likes him better than I do." He snorted. "At least I have it better than the Catar. After all I'm only possessed, not the devil himself."

"He hasn't proposed to exorcise your wolf, has he?" Albus asked slightly worried.

No werewolf exorcism had ever been successful, yet, though several werewolves had died in the process, but that didn't stop the brave warriors of the church from trying. Albus had firmly told Saint Aignon that Remus was too important to the order to risk any experimenting on, but the Templar tended to have his own opinions about these things.

"No, but he's been talking about it in class." Remus answered. "The first and third year Hufflepuffs and even some Ravenclaws have been coming to my class armed with crucifixes and holy water."

"Don't take it so hard." Albus tried to comfort him. "Why do you think Ronald Weasley put garlic in his potion?"

"Because his brothers put him up to it?" Remus guessed.

"He was trying to create a potion that kills vampires." Albus shook his head. "Apparently Severus had received a warning from concerned students that Weasley thinks he's a vampire and wants to free the school of him."

Remus laughed. "So he actually knew it was coming and Ron still got past him?"

"A rare feat." Albus agreed. "But the potion was supposed to be harmless enough to be inhaled, so Severus left him to his folly. I doubt the next experimenting student will meet with as much leniency, though."

"No doubt the poor child will consider himself lucky to survive the encounter." Remus agreed, then took a sip of tea. "So are we moving in on Azkaban?"

"What?" Albus hadn't even considered that option. "Oh no, we're not nearly strong enough for that."

"We ought to be able to defend it from the inside for a while."

"But we can't get all our forces in or out at once and whoever is left there when Voldemort takes over is as good as dead. We can't afford to waste our people’s lives like that."

 

Draco felt like he hadn't made any progress at all. He thought that he might have finally managed to sense the fire's magic the last time he'd tried, but it hadn't responded to his call at all, so maybe he'd just imagined it.

He tried again letting his 'magic sense' as he called it drift through the common room. Did the students in here feel different from Raven or was it just another trick of his imagination?

The fire felt weaker somehow. Was it dying down? He'd have to turn around to check, but that might attract attention. He didn't want anybody to know that he was practising special magic. Despite his friends' admiration of his race he didn't dare tell them that he was a Catar. Raven had warned him that a single slip of the tongue could mean death for both of them and that sounded a lot less romantic when it was real.

"So what are your plans for Weasley?" Theo slipped into the chair beside him.

"Huh, what?" What did a Weasley have to do with anything?

"Well, how do you want to take your revenge on the little Muggle-bastard?" Blaise prompted. "Because we've done some research and might be able to help with the details."

"Oh that." Draco remembered Severus' excuse for his transformation just a little too late. "I haven't really had time to think up anything good. What do you have?"

Theo grinned. "I found three excellent transfiguration spells. They're all a bit above third year level, though. The easiest would turn Weasley into a chicken, but unfortunately only lasts for half a minute. The coolest is to turn him into a statue, but he wouldn't be aware while he's transformed and then there's a really difficult spell that could turn him into a ferret. It's NEWT-level, though."

Draco frowned. "Forget it. Third year Transfigurations are hard enough. None of us could ever pull off NEWT-level."

"How about Potions then?" Theo asked still grinning. "There's a simple fourth year potion that can turn you into a toad, one that causes you to be really forgetful for at least a week and another to turn you into your worst fear."

That sounded more promising.

"Toads are overdone." Draco decided. "The forgetfulness potion might have a lot of merit, though. With a little luck Weasley would lose Gryffindor lots of points for forgotten books and homework."

"It needs green dragon scales, though." Blaise commented. "Snape might have them, but I doubt he'd just hand them over."

"He'll understand our desire to get revenge." Draco mused. "But I doubt he would let us brew unsupervised and help with the actual brewing would be asking too much. It's just not proper for a teacher."

"The worst fear then." Theo suggested. "And a simple mirror spell."

"And what if he turns into something really dangerous? Like a huge werewolf? What if it bites one of us?" Draco shook his head. "That's much too risky."

"No, it's not." Theo insisted. "His bogart's just a big spider."

"How do you know?" Draco asked. If that information was sound, the idea might be worth ay try. Weasley would get a big fright, but not be harmed and everybody else would have a good laugh. Just a little prank so it didn't matter that Weasley was actually innocent.

"Terry Boot told Estella." Theo smirked. "Millicent says Estella's in love."

"Nonsense." Blaise snorted. "He just offered a return favour for help with his Runes homework."

"In information about Weasley?" Draco asked. That didn't quite sound right.

"No, just any random favour." Blaise grinned. "But he got talkative once they reached the library and told her every last detail of the Ravenclaw/Gryffindor bogart lesson."

"So, do we have all the ingredients for the fear potion?"

"No, but we know where we can get them." Blaise became serious again. "I have one more idea, though."

Draco sat up straight. "What's that?" Blaise's suggestions were always worth hearing.

"We could," Blaise said grandiosely. "Do nothing."

"What?" gasped Draco and Theo.

"Oh yes, you see there's this anecdote about the founders. It might not be true. There are several similar stories about other historical figures, but it definitely works." Blaise explained.

"What works?" Draco demanded impatiently.

"Well, it says, during the first year of the school Gryffindor used to play little pranks on Salazar and Salazar would get him back. They both enjoyed their competition, but then they started to include the other founders as well. One time one of the others played a prank on Helga and she couldn't determine for sure who it was. So she put veritaserum in all three's food and they ended up spilling all their secrets in the great hall in front of everybody. It was Rowena that admitted to having pranked Helga, but Gryffindor and Salazar teamed up and got Helga back for the veritaserum and then all three were expecting Helga's revenge. When nothing happened for about a week they began to wonder what Helga might be up to that took so long to prepare. It had to be something even bigger than the veritaserum, they thought and with every day that went by without Helga taking her revenge they got more nervous. They were constantly looking over their shoulders, checking every room they entered for traps. In the end they were so nervous they couldn't even eat or sleep anymore until finally one by one they all secretly went and apologised to Helga. After that nobody ever played a trick on her again."

Draco beamed at Blaise. "And you can't be punished for not doing anything. It's the perfect plan."

Blaise nodded. "All we have to do is look like we're planning something and that shouldn't be too hard. Weasley sees evil plots in everything we do anyway."

 

The plan appeared to be working Draco decided when he saw Ron Weasley on the way to the Hogwarts chapel that Sunday. Weasley cast a nervous glance his way, shuddered, then turned around and headed away in the opposite direction.

"Hey, doesn't he have to go to mass as well?" Vincent demanded. "If he doesn't have to go, I'm not going either."

Oh, how Draco wished that he didn't have to go either! He'd never liked mass and now that he knew that the church was out to kill him it was even worse.

This was what he imagined a Muggle in Voldemort's dungeon would feel like. Or maybe a rabbit in a wolf pack's cave, a mouse in a terrarium ...

"He'll get in trouble for not going." Pansy reminded Vincent. "You don't want to have detention together with the weasel, do you?"

"Hey Draco, are you okay?" Gregory asked. "Your hands are shaking."

"It's nothing." Draco tried to convince him and hid his hands in the folds of his robes.

"You really ought to see Madame Pomfrey about those dizzy spells." Theo advised. "I'm surprised she didn't notice when you were in the hospital wing."

"Oh, she did." Draco lied quickly. "She said it was nothing to worry about. It's just puberty, you know. I must be growing too fast, but it's getting better already. This is the first time I've felt it at all this week and it's not nearly as bad as it used to be."

"It might come back when you have your next growth spurt, though." Blaise commented.

"Yes, and I don't think you've grown all that much this time." Theo agreed. "You're still shorter than me."

Draco shrugged. "It's not that bad. If it comes back I'll deal with it."

They'd almost reached the chapel now. Was it just his imagination or did it exude danger? His newly discovered magic sense was definitely picking up something unnatural here, though it didn't feel nearly as disgusting as Severus' dark mark, which meant that it probably wasn't dark magic. Dark magic, Raven had explained, had the most unpleasant feel of all.

The next thing he noticed was the smell. Somebody was burning incense in there, but unlike when his mother burned it at home here it didn't smell pleasant at all. It smelled cold and sharp and told Draco that he wasn't welcome in there. This was not a place for the living. He repressed a shudder as they joined the line at the door.

For a moment Draco felt confused about the hold up, but then the line moved on and he noticed tiny Professor Flitwick who was checking their names off a list. Of course, attendance. They had to check that, if they wanted to punish skippers after all.

They passed Flitwick and entered the chapel which was even gloomier than the Potions classroom. Quite a feat considering its fourth floor location.

The wooden benches didn't look any more welcoming either.

"Lets sit in the back." Draco suggested.

"But we're here to demonstrate how religious we are." Pansy protested. "We should sit where Saint Aignon can see us."

"He'll see that we were here from the attendance list." Draco pointed out. "Do you really want him to see how bored we are during his sermon? Besides I've forgotten when we're supposed to get up and kneel."

"And I refuse to kneel on these benches ever again." Daphne added. "My shins hurt for hours after last week's mass."

"Yes, if they expect us to kneel, they could at least put some cushioning charms on the wood." Alice agreed.

"So why didn't you charm them yourselves?" Blaise asked. "That's what I did."

Warned by that exchange Draco remembered to inconspicuously put his best cushioning charm on the small bench in front of his seat right after sitting down then did his best to hide behind the back of a stocky Hufflepuff fifth year who sat in front of him.

When nothing dangerous happened he dared to peek out past the girl's shoulder and noticed that the first row had been reserved for the teachers. He felt a touch of pity for Raven who had to sit right under the Templar's nose and hoped that the older Catar knew the foreign religion's rituals better than he did.

Was it even permissible for a proper Catar to participate in a catholic ritual? Wasn't that some sort of treason?

Rascal resolved not to fold his hands or actually say 'amen' just to be safe.

 

"I have so had enough of Weasley!" Hermione exclaimed plopping her Arithmancy book down next to Harry and Neville on Thursday morning.

"What again?" Harry asked surprised. "Didn't you only just make up after the Quibbler incident?"

"He's not just a Quibbler reading idiot." Hermione explained. "He's also planning to poison Snape with holy water."

"I wouldn't worry about that." Mandy Bocklehurst who'd just joined her at her desk and overheard the last statement consoled. "Holy water has the same properties as ordinary water in Potions. It won't have any effect on a water based potion."

"Try telling that to Snape when he catches you pouring an additional ingredient into your potion." Neville said.

"He can't watch every move twenty students make all the time." Mandy, who'd never yet had a single lesson with Professor Severus Snape, declared.

"Yes, he can." Neville insisted. "I could swear he must have eyes in the back of his head sometimes."

"He can't watch everybody, of course." Hermione said more realistically. "But he knows exactly which students are most prone to making mistakes and Ron has been top of the list ever since the cat-incident."

"I'm grateful for that." Neville admitted. "It makes me nervous when he's watching me."

"He's just doing that to prevent you from making a mistake that could get you or somebody else hurt." Hermione explained. "He doesn't mean to make you nervous. He just wants you to be safe."

"Yeah, right." Harry said sarcastically. "He doesn't want to scare us at all."

"It's true." Hermione insisted. "And he's only trying to scare us, because he thinks it'll make us work harder to please him. It's a very common misconception."

"Hush!" Neville hissed at them both. "Here come the Slytherins."

"Oh, why couldn't they all have picked Divination?" Harry groaned.

For some inexplicable reason Arithmancy appeared to be almost as popular with the Slytherins as it was with the Ravenclaws. There were seven of them in the class, compared to nine Ravenclaws, one Hufflepuff and three Gryffindors.

"I suppose their parents must have warned them what a useless teacher Trellawney is." Hermione said. "She's a complete fraud and an even bigger idiot. We haven't learned a single thing worth knowing, yet. Be glad you're not in that class."

"They say it's an easy E, though." Harry commented. "I heard she hardly ever gives an A and never anything less."

"That probably explains what Crabbe and Goyle are doing there." Hermione declared. "And Ron Weasley."

"Oh, come on. Don't be so hard on him." Harry tried to play peacemaker. "Almost everybody picked Divination."

"Twenty-one students, compared to the twenty here." Hermione pointed out. "I'd call that pretty even."

"I'm still surprised Malfoy chose to come here without his goons." Neville threw in mostly to prevent an argument.

"Yes, he's been behaving very oddly since the start of term." Harry agreed. "At first I thought he was just sick, but he looks just fine now and still hardly bothers us at all."

"So he's grown out of the stuck up bully behaviour." Hermione shrugged. "Maybe he's realised that his school work is more important than petty rivalries."

"He does seem rather distracted." Neville agreed. "Is he taking extra electives as well?"

"No, just Arithmancy and Runes from what I've seen." Hermione answered. "But he's also on the Slytherin Quidditch team and I heard that they have their own Duelling Club as well. He's probably in there, too."

"I heard that he's quit Quidditch." Harry said just as Professor Vector walked in. "They say he did go to the tryouts, but didn't put in an effort at all and when they asked him what was going on he said he didn't want to play anymore."

"There, you see it." Hermione whispered back. "He's concentrating on his school work."

 

"Nature spirits in plants and rivers?" Rascal asked sceptically.

"Yes," Raven returned casually inspecting the claws on his right hand for need of sharpening one by one. "They are the ones the Romans called nymphae. I'm sure you've heard of them in Latin class."

"Yeah well, the Romans also believed there's a whole clan of gods who need marriage counselling." Rascal commented and attempted to imitate Raven's behaviour even though he wasn’t entirely sure what exactly the older Catar was looking for.

He wasn't able to sheath and unsheathe his claws individually as Raven was doing, though, so he snapped them all out and bent the other fingers out of the way instead. The left middle claw received a casual lick.

"What're you licking at?" Raven inquired letting his hand drop back into his lap.

"Wall dust." Rascal returned with a slight grimace at the taste.

"That's unhealthy to ingest. Better wash it off with water."

"I felt like licking it." Rascal insisted. "My cat instincts say to lick my claws."

"Don't scratch your tongue." Raven sneered casually. "Who says they were wrong?"

"Huh? Who says who was wrong about what?"

"The Romans, about the gods."

"Er ..." Draco blushed. Well, it was nonsense, right? But where had he learned that?

"The chrch Templar." Raven decided.

Draco jumped at the sudden hiss and did indeed nick his tongue with the tip of his claw. Ouch! Those things really were sharp! He resolved to keep his tongue in his mouth for the moment. Maybe he'd lick his claws some more later when he was alone and nobody could startle him.

"I'm not saying the Romans were entirely right about it all, but gods exist and nature spirits most definitely do." Raven continued inspecting the claws of his other hand as if nothing had happened at all. "I've seen some."

"Really? When? Where?" Rascal pushed Raven's arm excitedly.

Raven stretched his arms, claws extending then slowly curling back. "Lots of times. They're easy to summon, especially fire sprites."

"How? Will-you-teach-me?" Most humans would probably have understood nothing more than an eager mewl, but Catar ears were better equipped to filter such sounds.

"In due time." Raven promised. "You still haven't mastered the first spell I taught you and this isn't the place for it. Nature spirits are most comfortable in nature. Besides I'm not sure whether Dumbledore would notice an additional magical presence in the castle or not. He's rather attuned to such things, though considering the sheer number of wizards and other magical beings in the school one more or less might escape attention."

"Risk it?" Rascal purred.

"No. Dumbledore is looking for us just as much as the Templar is and even if he doesn't have any ill intentions he will give us away to the Temple, if he finds us."

"Dumbledore's after us, too?" Draco yelped. Was he just getting paranoid or was the whole word really out to get him?

"He's looking to form an alliance against the death eaters." Severus explained. "Not a bad idea at first glance, if only he weren't already allied with the Temple and there were still powerful clans to call on. A few lonely Catar won't help him, though. What he'd need are complete clans with an existing command structure."

"An army, like the Templars are." Draco realised. "He's looking for mercenaries."

"Precisely."

"But why would we work for him? Isn't our place naturally on the other side?"

Severus bared his left arm and thrust the dark mark right under Draco's nose.

"Chrk! Eww!" Draco instinctively drew back.

He'd never seen it up close before. Even in private his father kept it covered as much as possible. Draco secretly suspected that Lucius thought it ugly himself and didn't like to look at it.

"Yes, chrk indeed." Raven hissed. "That, kitten, is real dark magic. That's what it feels and smells like. Do you think your senses’ reaction would be like that, if this were your nature? Dark magic goes against everything we are. It's unnatural, wrong."

"But you still wear the mark. You had to do dark magic back when you worked for Him, didn't you?"

"Just because it isn't our nature doesn't mean we can't do it. We can reach a certain level of tolerance for it's presence through frequent exposure. In fact, I believe that is true for you as well as me. You have grown up in a dark household after all. A normal kitten would most likely react much more strongly."

"So are there dark Catar and light Catar, just like there are dark wizards and light wizards?" Rascal asked cautiously leaning in close to sniff the mark.

"There are, or rather were a few clans that went dark, but they were always small and separate from the actual Catar culture. It is the worst crime a Catar can commit and a terrible dishonour to all who associate with them. Dark Catar are outcasts, Rascal. I was banished from my clan for my foolish curiosity and have had to live alone among wizards ever since. You are the first companion of my own kind I have had in fifteen years. Don't go dabbling in the dark arts, kitten. It's never worth it."

Draco shuddered even though he couldn't quite understand what it meant to be an outcast. In a way he had been one all his life, after all. He just hadn’t known.

"I won't." he said softly. "I promise."

"Good boy."

"What are those other scars from?" he asked sniffing one of the strange diagonal lines that ran in parallels across Raven's forearm, or perhaps it was a spiral running up his entire arm.

"That marks me as a Catar priest." Raven declared with a touch of pride. "They're brand marks on both arms."

He pushed both sleeves further back and Draco shuddered again as he realised that they were indeed spirals running from the wrists up to the shoulders.

"Brands?" He asked. "You mean they were made with hot irons?"

"Oh no. They wind burning ropes around your arms in the initiation ceremony. They go out right away when they touch your skin, of course, but it hurts for a few days. At a priest's initiation they start from the top of the shoulder to the front and at a high priest's from the armpit to the front, so high priests wear a criss-cross pattern."

"I think I might not want to be a priest after all." Draco commented wide eyed.

Raven laughed. "Coward."

Rascal bristled. "Didn't you say you were a high priest once? Where's your criss-cross pattern then?"

Raven sighed. "I became high priest by default, not initiation. You see, every clan must always have a high priest. He is the head of the clan, its leader. Without him the clan is dead. So when the last other member of my clan died he declared me as the last surviving member high priest that the clan could live on, at least in name. There was nobody to perform an initiation, though, so I never was initiated."

"But you said you were banished. How can you be head of the clan, if you're not even in it?"

Raven had to think about that for a moment.

"Well, I suppose the appointment did lift the ban." he decided finally. "Nightstalker was the one who banished me, so he also had the right to take it back. It's a nominal change anyway, with no clan left that I could return to."

It wasn't until he went to bed that evening that Rascal realised the implications. Nightstalker, whoever he was, had swallowed his pride and called back the criminal he himself had cast out in order to prevent his clan from dying. The duty to pass on the position of high priest had been more important than his personal honour.

That duty now fell to Raven, but where should Raven find a clan member to pass the position to? He'd never had any kittens, not even a wife and if you could nominate a member of another clan, Nightstalker would probably have done so rather than dishonour his clan. So where should the recruits to re-start the clan come from?

With an icy shock the realisation hit him: There was only one obvious candidate.

The thought of burning ropes and Raven's scars kept him awake for a long time that night.


	9. Chapter 8: The Fire-Lady's Request

Chapter 8: The Fire-Lady's Request

 

"Weasley really looks pathetic." Pansy remarked on the way back to the common room after breakfast one Saturday several weeks later.

"My sources say he has trouble sleeping." Millicent smirked. "He's still waiting for your revenge Draco."

"And I bet his forgetfulness and clumsiness have something to do with that as well." Theo added. "Did you know that McGonagall took five points off Gryffindor for Weasley forgetting his homework three times in a row? And to think we almost used a simple week long forgetfulness potion on him."

Rascal just shrugged. He had bigger things on his mind than Ron Weasley.

"So, who wants to play a round of 'Guess The Saint' with me?" Blaise invited as they entered the common room.

"Guess The Saint?" Vincent sounded puzzled. "What kind of game is that?"

"That's our Religion homework." Theo groaned. "You know the Templar's list of questions: Who is the patron saint of hunters, who shared his mantle with a beggar ... Blaise's just trying to make it sound interesting."

"I thought it would be easier, if we make a game of it." Blaise defended himself. "It might even be fun, if each of us grabs a book on saints and whoever finds the answer first gets a point. The one with the most points in the end wins."

"Well, alright." Pansy frowned. "Just so it doesn't ruin the rest of my weekend."

They headed up to their dorms where the frantic digging for writing utensils and homework scrolls started. Rascal smiled at them as he put on his heavy boots.

"Are you coming Draco?" Blaise and Theo were already at the door again.

Rascal shook his head. "Can't."

"But Draco, this is important." Gregory whined with both hands in his book bag. "The Templar has it in for you anyway."

"And you just can't keep copying all your homework from us." Vincent added. "Sooner or later somebody will notice."

"Okay, okay, so I'll do this one myself later." Draco promised. "I just can't right now. I already made different plans."

"Then re-schedule." Vincent suggested. "I want to try Blaise's game."

"Re-schedule Snape? Yeah right." Draco snorted.

"What, he gave you detention?" Theo asked incredulously.

"No, but I promised to help him gather some ingredients." Rascal lied. "Wouldn't look good to go back on it now."

"You're sucking up to Snape an awful lot lately." Blaise stated.

"Yeah, so?" Draco challenged. "He's not such a bad guy for a teacher and I can use a little brownie bonus."

"Teacher's pet." Theo teased.

"Meow." Rascal grinned. "What about it? This is Slytherin not Hufflepuff. 'Any means' remember? I'm just using my natural charm to improve my grades."

"Your Potions grade is fine." Gregory pointed out. "It's McGonagall and Saint Aignon that you should be sucking up to."

"Fat chance I'd have with either of them." Rascal returned. "But perhaps Snape can influence them for me."

"You think?" Blaise snorted.

"Well, not the Templar. Snape can't stand the sight of him any more than we do, but he and the hag get on better than they'd have us believe." Rascal grabbed his cloak and headed for the door.

Theo frowned. "What, you mean he and that old bitch ..."

"Eww, of course not!" Draco yelped. "She's much too old for that. No, they're just good colleagues, friends at most."

"But she's a Gryffindor." Vincent protested.

He had finally found an inkwell and Gregory had produced a wrinkled up homework scroll. Draco supposed the fact that they'd abandoned their search after that meant a taciturn agreement to share these items. Gregory and Vincent shared things a lot. They'd done so as long as Draco had known them and he couldn't really remember how long that was. He thought he even remembered seeing them on one of the pictures of his first birthday party.

"So's the headmaster and Snape likes him just fine." Blaise pointed out. "The rivalry isn't all that serious among the staff. They just like us to compete. Helps them keep discipline."

"Whatever." Rascal shrugged. "I've got to go. See you guys later." And he dashed out the secret door.

"Wha ..." Pansy started. "Hey, where's he off to this time? Seems like he's never around anymore."

 

Rascal knocked on Raven's door, but got no answer. After a quick look up and down the corridor to make sure nobody saw him use Snape's allegedly completely secret password he let himself in, transformed and curled up on one of the comfy old armchairs in the sitting room.

Soon soft purring could be heard as he watched the flames dance in the fireplace. If there was one Catar art he was good at it was relaxing as he waited.

His patience was tested today, though. It was over an hour before Raven finally showed up and petted his head in silent apology.

Rascal turned human again.

"Where were you?" he complained. "I thought you were going to show me the Sacred Forest today."

"And I will." Raven promised. "At least part of it. I couldn't quite tell that to the headmaster, though, could I? He's worried and needed to talk."

"Worried?" Rascal yawned and considered turning back into his true form. It was so much easier to stretch properly when you were a cat. "What's he worried about?"

Severus gave him a measuring glance.

"Oh well," he decided after a moment. "You're going to find out soon enough anyway. The Death Eaters finally took Askaban during the night. Two Aurors are dead or captured and we suspect that he killed the remaining prisoners as well. All except the completely mad were spirited away right under the Dark Lord's nose by unknown means."

"Which you just happen to know." Rascal stated, though he wasn't as sure as he pretended to be.

"Maybe." Severus allowed. "That's no business of nosy kittens."

"Why does it worry Dumbledore, though?" Rascal asked giving up on his first question for now. "Seems like the light side made the dark side waste their time on this."

"Not entirely." Severus admitted. "He may not have freed the wizards he wanted, but he does have the dementors now. They might not be very bright, but they sure are deadly. Even our claws can't hurt a dementor."

Rascal shuddered. "So what do you do to defend yourself?"

A snarl of dismay made Rascal jump. Raven was usually much more relaxed when they were on their own.

"There is a spell." Raven admitted. "A wizard spell, though, not a Catar one."

"Will-you-teach-me?" Rascal mewed.

"I can't." Raven snapped angrily, then after a deep breath continued more calmly. "I can explain the theory, if you absolutely want, but I doubt I'd be able to teach you to actually perform a spell I've never managed myself."

"You can't do it?" Draco gasped. Never in his life had he expected that there could be any piece of magic Severus Snape wasn't proficient at and ever since he'd learned that Snape was in fact a Catar that trust had only increased.

"I can't." Raven confirmed. "The patronus spell is powered by a strong feeling of happiness, which I am unable to create. I might have been able to do it, if I'd learned when I was younger and still had the happy memories of my kittenhood to draw on, but they are connected to the memories of being cast out now. To create a patronus your happiness must be pure."

"Patronus?" Rascal asked confused. "Happy memories?"

"Never mind." Raven brushed the topic aside. "If you are truly interested ask Lupin about the patronus spell. He might refuse to attempt to teach such advanced magic to third years, but I know for a fact that he has successfully taught it before. I have more important things to show you today."

"In the forest?" Rascal asked doubtfully. What could be more important than knowing how to defend himself?

"Yes, in the forest." Raven confirmed. "Come, I'll explain as we walk."

Draco had only a moment to worry about the fact that Snape only took a light cloak with him for a trip into the wintry forest as they strode out into the corridor.

"The Sacred Forest wasn't just the home of the Sacred Forest Clan." Raven explained apparently not paying any attention to the students they passed on their way. "It was the very center of its life for many generations. Catar clans formed around the magical places they hold holy and they consider it their duty to protect those places."

Draco worried about the witnesses at first, but then realised that they were all Slytherins. If anybody asked they could always pretend that he'd asked Snape a question about Salazar.

"The Sacred Forest, as Catar call it, is one of the biggest magical centers in Britain, second only to Stonehenge which was once the seat of the high council."

"What's the high council?"

"A high council was a meeting of twenty to thirty high priests that was held once a year." Raven explained. "To my knowledge none have been held in decades. Back in Salazar's days, however the heads of all British clans would travel to Stonehenge once a year."

"And the clans of other countries had their own high councils elsewhere?"

"Yes, though not each country had its own council and some larger countries, like France for example, had more than one council seat. The Sacred Forest never was one, though. Even in the days when Scotland and England still had separate governments it's Catar were subject to the Stonehenge council."

"Subject? So the council actually ruled over the clans?"

"In affairs that concerned the relationships and interactions of clans, yes. It rarely involved itself in the internal affairs of a single clan." Raven pushed open the big main doors and they stepped out onto the snow covered grounds. "Actually it only had the right to get involved when a clan's actions were perceived to constitute a threat to the safety of others. That stipulation was interpreted very widely by some council heads, though."

"Heads? What heads?" And here he'd thought he understood the social structure of Catar society!

"The council head was the high priest of the council. A high priests' high priest you could say." Raven explained as they trudged through the snow. "He was elected by vote, by the way. An early example of democracy in magical history."

"I thought both the Greeks an Romans already had democracy." Draco remembered from one of Blaise's tales.

"The Muggles, yes. Not their wizards, though and the high council was older anyway." Raven stated. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, though. The forest and its creatures are sacred and we as their priests have a duty to serve and protect them. The loss of the Sacred Forest Clan threatens the magic of the place and its people."

"What people?" Draco laughed. "With the Catar gone there aren't any people actually living in the forest anymore."

"And yet there are many who are protected by its magic." Raven returned. "There are a few werewolves living in the forest itself, not to mention the centaurs. The acromantulae and cobolds, too qualify as people in the widest sense. Even beyond that both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade are part of the forest's magical sphere. Should the forest's magic be destroyed Hogsmeade will become visible and vulnerable to Muggles. It doesn't actually have any protection beyond that."

"Hogwarts is protected by its own wards, though." Draco remarked.

"Which are four interwoven sets of wards each created by one of the founders." Raven added. "Guess what else Salazar wove in."

"Hogwarts' wards are dependant on the forbidden forest?" Draco gasped.

"Not entirely, no, but Salazar's contribution has been weakening for years due to the dwindling of the clan and it is possible that it might collapse entirely, if the forest's magic fails as well. The other founders' wards would probably survive, but the castle's protections would lose more than a quarter of their strength. Much of their power lies in the combination of the four sets, you see." Raven shook his head sadly. "But much as the loss of Salazar's school would pain us, it isn't our primary duty to protect the wizards that have forsaken us. We have a deeper bond with the forest and its creatures and above that with the nature spirits that have been our loyal friends since the beginning."

"So are you finally going to show me how to summon one?" Rascal pushed.

"Maybe." Raven promised. "For now I only want to show you the place we lived. If we have enough time left afterwards, maybe we can summon a minor spirit and introduce you. The magical centers within the forest will have to wait for another day anyway. There is too much to know about them to squeeze into one day and you hardly know enough to grasp the basics of their rituals."

They walked on for about two minutes before Raven cast one last glance back, deemed them far enough from Hagrid's hut and transformed. Rascal followed suite and realised with a start that the cold that had made him shiver disappeared the moment his paws sank into the snow.

He wished he could ask Raven how it was possible that he was warmer with his naked palms in the snow than he had been wearing his warm winter boots and fur-lined cloak, but any questions would have to wait until they turned back.

Raven's tail danced past his nose as the older Catar darted off through the trees.

Rascal bounded after him blindly and ended up diving face first into a thicket Raven had elegantly sailed over. Twigs scratched his nose and ears as he fought his way through with his eyes closed tightly.

They might not have been able to talk while in cat form, but Raven's look as he broke though onto the other side and tumbled into the snow spoke volumes.

"Mewl!" Rascal complained hating himself for the kittenish sound.

Raven swished his tail at him and took of again, this time pausing long enough to glance over his shoulder before jumping a fallen log.

Well, he wasn't going to disappoint his teacher again right away. Rascal gathered his haunches under him, took measure of the log and pushed off with all his might. High and ...

Too short! His front paws just barely made it over the log as he came down, but his hind-legs caught on the stump of a long dead branch. He hung there for a moment front paws scrambling for a claw hold on the log and then his weight broke the stump and he tumbled tail over ears to the ground. This time his nose and ears met cold snow, which stung almost as much as the twigs.

"Mewl!"

Strong jaws grabbed his neck fur and fished him out of the snowdrift. A quick shake, whether in admonishment or just to dislocate the snow in his fur Rascal wasn't sure, and then he was dropped back onto his paws.

"Merow." Raven announced sternly and slunk around the next bush.

For a while the journey went more smoothly and Rascal even managed a halfway dignified jump over a frozen rivulet, but that was about as much as his tired legs would take. Just how much further was the village? When was Raven going to slow down?

Twice he lost sight of the panther entirely, though he could still sense his magic just a little ahead.

He began to stumble again. The ground out here was uneven and the snow required an additional effort that he'd never needed to make when practising to walk in Raven's Hogwarts quarters or the hospital wing. And Raven was apparently determined to go the whole distance at a full out run! Aside from tail hunting and playing with a ball of wool Rascal had never run before.

One of his paws slipped on an icy stone and he just barely avoided another fall.

He looked up and found Raven gone once again, though he felt the adult's magic vaguely ahead. But which way had he gone? There were dense thickets and huge tree trunks everywhere he could see. The only thing of note was a big boulder slightly to the right, the big cousin to the stone he' slipped on. Rascal saw no way to go on.

"Mewl!"

For a second nothing at all happened, then Raven's head appeared on top of the boulder.

"Merow."

Rascal looked up at the boulder. Was he supposed to fly up there?

"Mewl!"

With an impatient cat sigh Raven jumped down, grabbed Rascal's neck fur and pushed off again without even taking a moment to measure his jump. The landing on top of the boulder was so smooth that Rascal didn't even feel it. He only knew they'd landed and pushed off again when he realised that they'd come down to the left of the boulder.

Raven dropped him into the snow and made as if to run of again.

"Mewl!" Rascal sank to the ground panting.

Raven stopped and glanced down at him disapprovingly.

"Mew." Rascal whined.

Another cat sigh and he was picked up again. Snow and bare branches whisked through his field of vision and then all of a sudden his paws were dangling against Raven's chest as they were moving straight up!

The world righted itself after a few heartbeats, but now they were high above the ground. Another blink of an eye later they were sailing through empty air.

Had he really thought that Raven was running before? These large jumps from tree to tree probably brought them near to the average speed of a racing broom. Though this wasn't so bad once you got used to ...

Down! They were falling!

No, not falling. They'd jumped back down and pushed off again on a snowdrift to sail over a patch of reeds. Only Rascal's stomach seemed to have remained behind somewhere in the trees, but at least they were on solid ground again.

At least he thought they were on solid ground until he realised that Raven was actually sliding over a frozen lake sitting on his haunches. He closed his eyes until he felt the fast regular jumps of a normal run again and wondered whether he'd ever learn to move like a true child of the forest.

"Mewl." he declared rather meekly when Raven finally dropped him into the snow again.

Elegantly Raven melted back into his human form.

"You," he declared with a sneer. "Need jumping lessons."

"And running." Rascal admitted after popping inelegantly back into his other shape. "You're way too fast. Do we have lunch now?"

"If you want to catch it." Raven offered. "I didn't pack a picnic, did you?"

"Mewl!"

"Oh fine, I'll show you how to hunt in a moment, but first, this is the village."

Draco turned around and searched his surroundings. "Where?"

"Right here." Raven stated. "The place we are standing is where my parents' hut once was. Over there was Nightstalker's home and right next to it is where my little cousin Tiger lived ..."

For almost an hour Rascal trudged after Raven and tried to memorise the former location of each hut and the names and fates of its inhabitants. He tried to feel their remaining magical auras as Raven instructed, but most of the time all he felt was the cold snow and an occasional gust of icy wind. The clearing was quite well protected from wind, Raven assured him, and Rascal wondered just what the weather might be like outside.

At least Raven's descriptions of the daily life of the clan, the evening rituals and the sharing of meals were already familiar and Rascal found it easier to imagine them now that he saw the clearing. The only thing he absolutely couldn't picture was the huts themselves. He wished Raven had left at least that last one standing as an example.

"I'm hungry." he complained finally. "Can we cook and share some food of our own now? I'll even try to cook, if you give me some pointers."

The cooking itself wasn't actually the problem. It couldn't be that different from Potions. Lighting the fire Catar-style however was a different matter.

Raven stopped to consider it. "What would you like to eat then?"

Draco blinked. What would he like? Raven couldn't have a Hogwarts feast in his pocket, could he?

"Well, what are the options?" he asked.

"At this time of the year rather limited, I'm afraid." Raven returned with a slight shrug. "We could have mice or similar ground dwelling rodents, birds, or maybe an actual pheasant, if we're lucky. You might find squirrels a bit tricky to catch for now and then there's always rabbit."

"You mean you were actually serious about hunting our own food!"

"But of course." Raven smirked. "So what do you feel like? Mouse, bird, squirrel or rabbit?"

That sounded as if he was serious about eating mice and squirrels as well. Draco's stomach turned at the very thought. Pheasant didn't sound all that bad, but what were the other birds Raven had mentioned?

Best to stay with the safe option. He'd eaten rabbit before and it was probably easiest to catch.

"Rabbit." he declared.

"Alright then. I'll lead you to the rabbit for now and you catch it." Raven decided. "You've practised the kill on my tail and your ball of wool often enough, so you shouldn't find it as hard as the actual hunting."

Before Draco could protest that he'd never killed anything larger than a mosquito before Raven had already transformed and was bounding away. Rascal swallowed his arguments and followed. Maybe killing wasn't all that hard. After all he had all the right cat instincts.

After about twenty minutes of sneaking around, with lots of reproving glares at Rascal who was apparently completely hopeless at sneaking, Raven finally pointed his nose at the small silhouette of a half grown rabbit.

Rascal stifled a purr of joy, tried to will his growling stomach to silence and dashed at the animal.

The rabbit saw him and jumped up, Rascal launched himself at it just like he did with his ball of wool and ... overshot his mark. For the second time today he landed with his face in a snowdrift, but there was a second, larger rabbit to his left.

He slammed his paw on top of it before it could get away, but drew back in fright when the rabbit let out a scream that sounded just like a human infant.

The rabbit disappeared into its hole and left Rascal staring at the messed up snow.

"Mewl!"

There was no answer. The reason for which became obvious when Raven trudged up to him with a large rabbit in his mouth.

Rascal blinked up at him sheepishly. "Mew?"

 

"Well, you scared it practically right into my fangs." Raven commented while he watched Draco pile up firewood to cook their rabbit. "I couldn't just let such a perfect chance pass me by. Considering your hunting skills that turns out to be very lucky indeed."

"I didn't know rabbits scream like that." Draco pouted and conjured the fire. "Didn't know rabbits can scream at all."

"They're not very talkative." Raven allowed. "But anything will scream when you dig your claws into its back."

"So, where's the cauldron?" Draco looked around as if it might suddenly materialise in a bush.

"What cauldron?"

"To cook the rabbit in?"

"No cauldron." Raven stated. "We'll just roast it on a spit."

Cooking turned out to be more difficult than Potions after all. At least wilderness cooking without any pots or dishes. The rabbit tasted wonderful, though, but that might have been due to the fact that Draco felt like he was about to starve by the time it was finally ready. Raven of course had to insist that one didn't starve that easily.

"Remind me to show you how to store food that can't run away come spring." Raven said as he threw the remains of the spit into the fire after the meal. "You'll need it."

"I almost had that second rabbit." Rascal pouted. "And it was my first hunt ever."

"That was pure coincidence." Raven shot back. "Anyway, do you still want to meet a nature spirit?"

"Of course!"

"Then watch. I'm going to summon a fire spirit out of this fire."

And Rascal watched wide eyed as Raven executed a long sequence of hand gestures while purring a strange melody. Hadn't he once said that a chant was required to summon a spirit? Or was the purring the chant?

Suddenly the fire flared up brightly and a red creature that looked like a cross between a house elf and a fairy appeared. Golden bracelets sparkled on her wrists and translucent wings flickered with the light of the fire.

"My Lady!" Raven exclaimed obviously startled. "I did not mean to disturb you. I only meant to call on one of your minor servants."

"And so you did, Catar Lord." the Lady replied with a smile. "It was my own choice to appear in his place."

"I am very honoured, my Lady." Raven bowed deeply and Rascal began to feel nervous.

Should he bow as well?

"You are a high priest." she stated suddenly with a touch of surprise. "But you were never introduced to me and the kitten is not your own."

"I am Raven, last of the Sacred Forest Clan." Raven replied more steadily. "The kitten's name is Rascal, an orphan I found wandering among humans. I ... apologise for my contaminated magic. I hope it isn't too much of a discomfort."

She brushed that issue away with an impatient gesture.

"I have come here out of a much bigger concern." she explained. "It has been forever since I last spoke with one of your kind and even summonings like this have become extremely rare. I could have answered every call made by your kind for the last ten years and would have been less busy than I was answering my personal calls a thousand years ago. I am worried for your people, my kind Raven, very worried."

"Kind?" Raven snorted.

"Yes kind." the Lady insisted. "Kind enough to raise a stranger's little one in hard times. And very brave, too. Oh yes, I am very lucky to have found you."

Raven looked at her incredulously.

"You want me to do something for you?" he prompted at length.

"Oh, but not without reward." the Lady promised. "But before we discuss that, you called for a fire spirit's services."

"On the kitten's request." Raven explained. "He had never seen a summoning and wished for a demonstration. That need has been served. Now, how can I serve you?"

"I wish to know what happened to your people. Why have the summonings become so rare? Have we done something to offend you?" She looked incredibly sad as she said that. Fire spirits apparently were very emotional beings.

"You have done nothing wrong." Raven hastily assured her. "If the summonings have become rare it is, because our own numbers have dwindled as well and summoning is often dangerous for both us and the one we summon. The servants of the wizards' false god are hunting us and have declared all spirits evil. They have murdered many, sometimes whole clans. I suppose other Catar too have learned to think twice before calling on a spirit where others might overhear them."

"Murdering whole clans!" The Lady shivered and drew her wings tightly against her body. "Oh, how dreadful! How many are left then?"

Raven shook his head sadly. "I do not know, my Lady. I know of three lines where Catar have married into wizard families and are pretending to be human. It is not proper to approach a tainted one, though, and they have accordingly never acknowledged me. The clans themselves went into hiding decades ago and I have never met a member of another clan in my lifetime. I do not know whether any of them survive."

The fire Lady faded almost completely back into the flames and was silent for a long time, but Raven did not move from his position.

"Then I must ask more of you, my kind Raven, than I ever intended to." she said just when Rascal was about to ask Raven whether they shouldn't extinguish the fire and head home. "And it will probably be a very risky undertaking for both you and your kitten, but I beg you to try to find them for your own sake as well as mine, for I do not know when I will have the chance to ask another. If you could find out about how many are left and tell them that we long to speak to them again, I promise to bless and protect your clan with all my power until the end of time."

"I will try, my Lady." Raven promised. "But I do not have many leads to follow and they might well refuse to talk to a tainted one. They have no way of knowing that I will not betray them to dark wizards, if not to the servants of the false god themselves."

"It s a strange thing that one god would be so harsh towards an other's creatures." the fire Lady said sadly. "Why cannot they compromise as spirits do?"

"That god is different from the others." Raven tried to explain. "He forbids his followers to believe in the existence of any other god besides him and they in turn kill those who they suspect of serving or teaching the service of any other god. It is a ruthless faith that cannot accept the existence of any other."

"It must be a very cruel god indeed." the fire Lady judged. "Please be careful that his henchmen do not find you in your quest. There is little I can do to protect you against magic wielders, but I can give you whatever little information we have of other Catar. The last time one of my servants was summoned it was to that beautiful island north of your own that they call Iceland. The one who summoned him was Whitefang of White Wolf's Clan. I have great hopes that he and his clan are still alive."

"I will do whatever I can to find them, my Lady."

"Thank you, my kind, no, my brave Raven. And I wish you the best of luck on all your journeys."

"And the same to you, dear Lady."

The fire fell in on itself as the Lady disappeared and Raven extinguished it with a thoughtless gesture. He kept staring at the burned wood in silence, though.

"Was that a fire spirit then?" Draco asked finally.

"The queen of the fire spirits." Raven confirmed. "It was a great honour that she visited us. Fire spirits aren't very powerful, but they are the oldest friends of our race and as such worthy of respect and gratitude."

"So are you going to keep your promise to her?"

"Of course." Raven confirmed. "I just told you she was entitled to great respect, didn't I?"

"Then you're going to Iceland to meet other Catar." Rascal tried hard to keep himself from bouncing up and down in excitement. "Can I come too?"

Raven sighed. "That will most likely be necessary. I cannot abandon you and Whitefang might be more inclined to talk to an innocent kitten than to a tainted one anyway."

"Why? Do you know him?"

"No, nor have I ever heard of White Wolf's Clan before, but the Icelandic Catar are Northeners. They have a much sterner honour code than we do. I doubt they can accept the dark magic on me."

"Northeners?" Rascal repeated. "But aren't we in the north as well?"

Raven laughed. "Yes, but I am still of a Southener clan. It's a political term more than a geographic one. You see sometime around the days of Merlin Catar in France first started to intermarry with Muggles as well as wizards. It caused a big disagreement among the clans when the news reached them and was argued about in all high councils. Many thought that marriage with Muggles should be strictly forbidden and those Catar banished, but their own clans refused to take action against them and some councils decreed rules under which it was to be allowed, but even those were often contradictory. Council heads met over the issues and sometimes even came to blows. In one such incident a council head from Norway lost an ear to a French colleague and swore afterwards never to speak to a French Catar again. Other clans, who were equally disinclined towards intermarriage with Muggles followed his example and soon extended the rule to all clans that allowed Muggle marriages. Because most of them were living in northern Europe they became known as Northeners and those who allowed Muggle marriages accordingly as Southeners."

"And all that because of a few Muggles?"

"Just look at the chaos in the wizarding world right now." Raven said almost casually. "That's all because of a few Muggle-borns."

"Well, I suppose we're lucky no more clans sundered because of the differences between their Muggle marriage rules." Draco decided. "At least that means we have only two groups to find."

"Unless of course the Fire Lady decides she misses the dark Catar as well." Raven joked. "There was indeed a real danger of such a split for a while, but about two generations later the Southeners did agree on one common set of rules."

"So there's dark Catar and light Catar and the later are once again split into Northeners and Southeners and you've been teaching me Southener customs so far, but now we're going to try and find the Northeners."

"Right now we're going back to Hogwarts and you're going to use the rest of the weekend to practise your jumping and climbing and catch up on your homework." Raven corrected. "And I will write to all the Catar I know. Perhaps one of them is willing to talk, if I make the first move, or they might at least contact the Fire Lady directly. We can't just disappear from the school in the middle of term without a good excuse."

Draco pouted. "So you intend to wait until July?"

Raven smirked. "Oh, I believe a Christmas holiday in Iceland might agree with me this year. They have very special potions ingredients there. Perhaps I could find a cheaper source for those."

"Oh, will I get to meet any of their Potions Masters, too?" Draco asked excitedly. "Who is the most famous? Do you know any of them personally?"

"You concentrate on your homework." Raven ordered.

Draco frowned. He'd done most of his homework. Well, except for the Religion nonsense any proper Catar would shake all four paws at.

Raven was good at pretending during mass, though. Maybe he knew saints as well?

"Speaking of homework," he started cautiously. "Do you have any idea which saint shared his coat with a beggar?"

"Martin." Raven answered promptly. "He was also betrayed by geese. Don't ask me how they got those to tell them anything, though. Not the most informative birds normally."

"I only need the beggar anyway." Draco assured him. "You wouldn't happen to know the patron saint of hunters as well, would you?"

"Nimrod? ... No wait, that one's a famous hunter, but not even catholic. ... Michael? No, that's policemen. Florian, for fire-fighters, Raphael's the angel of healing. Maybe John? No, that's an apostle. Lukas as well. Perhaps David."

"No, he killed a giant."

"Lucius, like your father?"

"Either a form of Lukas, or of Lucifer, which is the devil."

"I knew that." Raven declared. "It means carrier of light, though, so does that mean their god prefers darkness?"

"I wouldn't ask the Templar about that, if I were you." Rascal advised. "Sounds like dangerous ground."

"I'm not going to ask him anything, thank you very much. I'd rather not talk to him at all."

"Neither would I. Do you think Madame Pomfrey would confirm a note from my father that says I'm allergic to crosses or holy water?"

"That'd get you exorcised." Raven warned. "If you're lucky. And the youngest Weasley brat might come after you armed with garlic."

"What sweet little Ginny?"

"No the other Weasley brat."

"Oh he's much too worried about my revenge for the first garlic attack to try anything." Draco stated hoping that Raven would ask for details, but the older Catar had already transformed.

Running through the snow still wasn't any easier. He wondered whether it would be any better once his legs grew a little longer. Then again, that would probably just make him sink in even deeper with every step.


	10. Chapter 9: Respectfully

Chapter 9: Respectfully

 

The scowl with which Harry regarded his breakfast on the first of December could almost have rivalled Snape's, but then he thought he had good reasons to be upset. He'd gotten up especially early to get in some flying practise before the meal and found that the broom shed wouldn't open.

After trying a few spells without any result he'd reluctantly gone and reported the problem to Mr. Filch and promptly earned himself a detention for bothering the caretaker before breakfast. Well, considering that Filch had been blinking sleepily and wearing his night-shirt when he'd opened the door, he'd probably woken him up. That tended to annoy people and Filch was grumpy at the best of times.

Detentions didn't really bother Harry all that much anyway. Usually they were more pleasant than any one of his daily chores at the Dursleys'. Scrubbing the entrance hall floor wasn't going to kill him. What did bother him was that Filch had told him that Professor Hooch had sealed the broom shed, when she'd closed down the pitch for the winter. Apparently the unusual amount of snow this year had convinced the Flying teacher that the pitch was unsafe.

Harry had then tried to convince Professor Hooch to let him take his broom inside so he could at least service it, but the Professor hadn't believed his promise that he wouldn't sneak out to fly. Apparently his lying skills had suffered since leaving the Dursleys'. Lack of practise. Here at Hogwarts he had little reason to lie except occasionally to Snape or Filch.

He took a sip of tea to distract himself and found that he'd forgotten to add sugar. A glance up and down the table revealed that the Weasley girl had taken the sugar bowl. Jean? No Jeaney, or Ginney or something like that. At least that was what her brothers called her. Harry knew Fred and George Weasley from Quidditch, and Ron was his dorm mate, after all, but had barely ever talked with the other two Weasleys. They seemed to be more quiet than the twins and Ron.

Could he risk using the sugar after it had been in the hands of a Weasley? The twins were nowhere around, but could they have talked their sister into helping them set up a prank anyway? Would Jeaney do that? He'd heard George complain about what a rule abiding prick Percy the prefect was once, but couldn't remember either twin ever saying anything about the girl.

Perhaps it was safer to just drink his tea without sugar today? He never got any at home either, after all.

A gust of cold wind announced the arrival of the morning owls and caused Harry to look up hopefully. Due to his Uncle Vernon's refusal to sign the permission form for Hogsmeade visits he'd been forced to get his Christmas presents via owl order and the package with Neville's gift was due to arrive any day now. It would be perfect if it were delivered now before Neville came in and saw it.

His eyes were drawn to a flash of white wings, but no, it wasn't Hedwig. This owl was larger and there was a letter affixed to her leg. Harry didn't know anyone who'd owl him a letter. The Dursleys and his old baby-sitter Mrs. Figg were Muggles and the only other people he knew outside Hogwarts were Neville's relatives. They occasionally added a few words to him in their letters to Neville, but it wouldn't make sense for them to owl him directly.

Yes, as predicted the snowy owl sailed past him and landed on the head table. Harry sighed as he watched him hop in front of Snape and hold out his leg.

It just had to be Snape, didn't it?

 

"By the way, I meant to thank you, Severus." Remus Lupin said in a deliberately casual tone while buttering his second slice of toast.

"Lupin, you've already thanked me at least twice for every single dose of ... medicine I've brought you." Raven returned grumpily. He could hear Filius' muffled sniggering and see Minerva roll her eyes at Albus.

"I didn't mean the potion." Remus explained even more softly and sent a warning look Flitwick's way.

Whatever he wanted to say, he was obviously serious about it and he didn't want to arouse Severus' anger. Luckily he knew that that meant not to make a big emotional scene, but all in all Severus preferred when Gryffindors didn't thank him at all, especially not in public.

"What else have I ever done for you?" More than he hoped the werewolf was aware of.

"I wanted to thank you for taking most of my classes while I was ... sick." Remus explained. "I know you had to cancel your own lessons for it. Considering how far behind the students are already I would never have been able to make up for the lost time otherwise."

"Thank the headmaster then." Severus snapped. "I did it on his orders."

"Ah, but you didn't have to start a new topic. Especially one as complicated as werewolves." Remus smiled. "Anybody else would have just supervised the classes or done some revision."

"A new topic was most likely to keep the students busy." Severus claimed. "And werewolves seemed appropriate as it happened to be a full moon."

"Aren't werewolves usually discussed near the end of the year?" Albus asked just a little too innocently.

"Yes, that's why I could be reasonably sure that Lupin hadn't covered them yet."

"Indeed." Remus confirmed. "Thank you for seeing to a topic that might well have had to be cut short due to lack of time at the end of the year."

"Cut short?" Severus sneered at the DADA teacher. He knew very well how reluctant Remus was to speak about his condition. He'd probably never have been able to work up the courage to discuss it in class at all.

Lupin was about to answer, but a demanding "Hoot!" cut him off.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the snowy owl sitting in his, luckily already empty, plate. He wasn't expecting any mail.

The owl looked quite convinced that he was his rightful recipient, though, so Severus untied the letter and examined the envelope. There was no return address on the front, but when he turned it around he discovered a wax seal on the back that was easy enough to identify.

Raven pocketed the letter as quickly as he could without seeming hasty.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Remus enquired.

"Later." Raven shrugged off the comment.

"Oh, Severus doesn't want us to see his letter." Filius teased. "Got a lady friend there, old boy?"

Raven snorted. "Hardly. Just a polite letter from a former student."

"How do you know that, if you haven't read it yet?" Albus was twinkling again, clearly amused.

"Because." Raven stated with a glare. "I sent her congratulations on her recent promotion. This is merely her thank you note, nothing more."

"And that's so secret you won't share it with us?" Minerva shook her head. "Slytherins."

They didn't push any further, though and that was all that mattered to Raven at that moment. This letter should never have arrived in public. Perhaps he'd have time to read it in his office after setting up for his morning class.

 

He should have known better than to hope for some time to himself on a Wednesday morning, of course. The day began with a double dose of Gryffindor/Ravenclaw fifth years. Not as volatile a combination as Gryffindor/Slytherin, but this class included the Weasley twins.

Not that Severus found them difficult to handle, but they were demanding students that required his full attention. This was their OWL year and Severus was convinced that only straight Os would serve for their intended careers as joke-inventors. Taking a minute to read a letter, no matter how important, would be slacking off on the job. Maybe he'd find some time between classes and lunch.

It was not to be however. Three minutes before the end of the second lesson Lee Jordan's cauldron gave a sudden hiss, then cracked and fell into pieces. A solid, blue, cauldron shaped chunk fell into the fire beneath it and with another hiss the flames perished.

Lee reacted with a strangled cry of frustration, but it was the wide eyed fascination in the Weasley twins eyes that caught Severus' attention and caused him to swallow the first comment that came to his mind.

"Too late to start over, Jordan." he said instead. "You do realise that this potion is one of the most popular OWL assignments, don't you?"

Lee gulped and nodded.

"I'd start studying, if I were you."

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry." And probably glad the incident hadn't cost Gryffindor any points on top of the big T in Severus' grade-book.

There was complete silence in the class. Then predictably two hands rose into the air at exactly the same time.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" Let them decide which one he was talking to.

"But what exactly happened to Lee's potion, Sir?" Fred asked.

"Well, what do you think, Mr. Weasley?" Snape smirked. "At your level you should be able to deduce the mistake from the visible facts."

Fred and George stared at the mess on Lee's desk.

"The potion congealed?" George suggested.

"Did it?" Severus sneered. "Why don't you come here and take a closer look to test that hypothesis?"

Fred and George didn't hesitate to accept the invitation. Around them the rest of the class began to pack up and leave, but neither Severus nor the twins paid them much mind. If he could teach them to analyse and track a mistake scientifically this early on ...

"Is it safe to touch?" Fred's hand was hovering right over the blue chunk.

"If you don't know, always assume that it isn't."

Fred glanced at him, then back at the chunk. He was sure that Fred was fully aware that he hadn't warned Jordan against touching anything, nor disposed of the failed potion immediately. That should assure the boys that the chunk couldn't do them any serious harm, but he hoped they wouldn't take it as a guarantee against minor cuts or burns.

Fred returned to his desk and pulled on his dragon hide gloves. Good boy. Raven ignored him.

"It's not congealed." George reported after several minutes of poking and pushing the chunk with gloved hands. "It's frozen."

By now the rest of the class had disappeared and Severus remembered too late that he hadn't set them any homework. Oh well, he'd make up for it with a surprise test next lesson.

"Frozen." Fred repeated in wonder then picked up one of the cauldron shards. "Can cold break a cauldron?"

"Break?" George asked.

"This clearly didn't melt, nor was there an explosion and it most certainly wasn't cut apart."

"Cauldrons don't just break. They're solid metal."

"Metal like most things contracts in the cold." Severus supplied. The wizard raised boys probably had never even heard of Physics after all. "Grows smaller. Water however extends when it freezes. And it freezes from the top down. So when the potion froze so suddenly the cauldron was torn apart."

There was a moment of silence while the twins contemplated that.

"Okay, so the potion froze very suddenly. That's what went wrong, but why did it happen?" Fred put the shard down on the table and poked the frozen potion again. "The room is a little drafty, but not really cold enough to freeze water, there was a fire under the cauldron and the potion was boiling the last time I looked this way. I'd have noticed, if it hadn't been."

Severus reacted only with a stern look. He was aware of the twins' habit to keep an eye on their classmates' potions and alert them to mistakes when they thought he wasn't looking. He'd never addressed it, though, because they hadn’t shown a tendency to forget their own work over it and there was always a chance that they caught a mistake he had missed. Despite what some students might think Severus wasn't fond of potions exploding into his students' faces or boiling over onto their fingers.

"It must have been a wrong ingredient, then." George agreed. "Something that reduces the potion's temperature."

Fred checked the ingredient jars left on Lee's desk. "None of these look wrong." he commented and George handed him a potions book already open to the correct page.

"No, nothing here that isn't on the ingredients list." he confirmed after a moment.

"Then Lee must have added the wrong amount or maybe he forgot to add a heating agent." George deduced.

"Or added something at the wrong time." Fred suggested. "We need to know which of these ingredients can affect a potion's temperature." He looked expectantly towards his teacher.

"Now how could you find that out?" Severus mocked.

"The ingredients index in our Potions book." George stated. "Their properties should be listed there."

Checking every ingredient took some time, of course and by the time they were finished lunch had already started. So much for reading his letter during lunch break. Oh well, this was worth it. This was what teaching Potions should be like. No bored, unwilling or even distracted students, no stupid answers. Just a small group of truly interested students discovering the intricacies of brewing. It was a Potions teacher's dream lesson. So what if it wasn't an official lesson at all.

"It's the dragon scale and the ice-flowers." Fred finally reported to him. "The scale is necessary for the potion's effect, but the ice-flowers are only in there to counteract its heating effect so the potion won't boil over or evaporate. Lee forgot the scale and the potion just wasn't hot enough when he added the flowers."

Severus regarded the frozen potion which was finally beginning to melt. George noticed his look and began to close the ingredient jars and move them out of the potion's reach before it could spoil their contents. Good boy.

"That is a nice theory, but unfortunately it doesn't fit all the facts I see."

Fred frowned at his notes, George wiped a blue stain off the jar of ice-flowers, then held it against the light to check whether any of the potion had gotten inside.

"It's the dragon scale that turns the potion blue." he said suddenly. "Without it the potion should remain purple."

"So what do we deduce from that?" Severus demanded.

"Lee did add the dragon scale, but overdosed on the ice-flowers." Fred realised. "But how could he make a mistake like that? It clearly says to add two ice-flowers. How can you miscount two?"

"That," Severus smirked. "Is why I keep telling you to concentrate on your potions. I doubt that Mr. Jordan miscounted at all. He probably got distracted, forgot that he'd already added the ice-flowers and added another two. Two points to Gryffindor and now, clean up this mess."

"Yes Sir!" The twins beamed at him.

If they weren't Gryffindors he'd probably love those boys almost as much as his little Rascal.

 

Albus Dumbledore looked up in surprise when Severus Snape hurried into the great hall late, accompanied by the Weasley twins of all people and ... smiling?

Yes, that definitely was a smile and not a smirk. Those little rascals couldn't have managed to cast cheering charms on the ever cautious Potions Master, could they?

"Severus." Remus Lupin greeted his colleague happily. "There you are. I already thought you were going to skip lunch today."

"Unlike some people's my life doesn't revolve solely around mealtimes." Severus snapped half-heartedly.

"Your life revolves around giving the Weasley twins detention?" Minerva asked. "Why really Severus, what did they do to deserve this?"

"Detention? Of course not." Severus returned just as condescendingly. "I have no idea what you are talking about." His smile had disappeared, proving that it hadn't been magically induced after all.

"Well, what were you doing, if not giving the Weasleys detention?" Albus asked. It couldn't possibly have been something the twins did that had made Severus smile, could it?

"I was furthering my students' talents, by responding to their interests and providing them with a challenge worthy of their intellects and level of knowledge."

"You what?" Poor Hagrid never had been able to keep up with Severus' vocabulary.

"They expressed an interest in some extracurricular work I thought they would profit from, so I allowed them to work it out after class."

Hagrid still looked puzzled and Minerva was wearing a confused frown. She'd probably call the Weasley twins into her office the first chance she got and demand an explanation.

Albus however wasn't worried at all. Severus had spoken quite positively of the twins before and he could be a better teacher than most people realised when he felt the effort was worthwhile. Perhaps the Weasley twins were doing Severus more good than he had realised so far. It was good that at least one teacher saw actual potential in those two. That could only further their interest in their school work and was the only thing that might keep them in school after this year.

 

"Hello Ronnikins." Finding no free chairs left with their dorm mates, Fred and George decided to sit with their little brother. "What're you doing?"

"Checking the pumpkin juice for poison." Ron answered matter-of-factly.

"Don't you think that's just a little bit paranoid?" George hinted.

"No it's not." Ron insisted. "The Slytherins are out to get me, for that stupid cat incident and potions are their typical weapon. I bet Snape custom brews them for them."

"Nonsense." Fred snorted.

"Ron, the pumpkin juice comes in several carafes for free use of everybody at the table." George explained patiently. "How would the Slytherins know which one you're going to get your juice from and how could they ensure that nobody else is affected."

"They could poison all of them." Ron declared. "Snape hates all Gryffindors anyway."

"Look, little brother, no matter how unpleasant a person he might be he does not poison his students." Fred said exasperatedly. "He might not like us, but he is responsible for us and he takes his job seriously."

"He's a greasy git." Ron insisted. "And when does he ever bother to actually teach a Gryffindor anything?"

"Well, believe it or not, he just awarded us points for figuring out how Lee botched his potion." George grinned proudly.

"He stayed after class and gave us hints and everything." Fred added. "You can't deny that that's really nice of him."

"He kept you after class." Ron told them. "What's nice about that?"

"He worked overtime, because we asked him a question." George countered.

"You asked Snape a question? You're crazy." Ron informed his brothers.

"What's crazy about wanting to know something?" Hermione looked up from her newspaper. "I think it's wonderful that at least some people in your family are showing an interest in their school work."

"Anything interesting in the Prophet?" Ron asked, probably to distract her.

Hermione nodded sadly. "There was another attack in Diagon Alley. It's not clear yet whether the target was Olivander's or a customer who just happened to be in the shop at the time."

"Olivander's?" George gasped. "The wand-maker?"

"Yes, the shop's almost completely destroyed." Hermione confirmed. "The paper doubts that Mr. Olivander will even re-open. But where will next year's first years get their wands, if he doesn't?"

"I got mine handed down from a great-uncle." Fred said. "And George has grandpa Weasley's."

"Most wizarding families have old wands lying around somewhere." Ron agreed. "They don't really have to buy a new one for every child."

"But what of the Muggle borns?" Hermione wondered. "I don't have any magical family members who could hand down wands. I bought mine at Olivander's."

"Well, I suppose they'll have to go to Wands and Books in Aberdeen, then." George said after a moment. "Or have one custom made at Fine Wands in Hogsmeade."

"Fine Wands?" Hermione asked. "I've never even heard of that shop."

"It's a very small shop in the alley behind the Three Broomsticks." Ron explained. "Dead posh and expensive. I bet Malfoy has one."

"His father, probably does." George agreed. "But not the boy."

"It doesn't really make sense for a child's first wand." Fred added. "The wandmaker needs to know the wizard's strengths and preferences in order to know what wand would suit them. That's hard to determine for a child that hasn't even learned any spells, yet. It's much easier to try on various different wands and see which one responds best."

"Do many wizards have custom wands?" Hermione asked.

"Most of them." George nodded. "Many have them made right when they leave school, but the wiser ones wait until they are about twenty and their magic is fully developed. By then they can give the wandmaker a very clear picture of what they need and be reasonably sure that they get the best possible wand for them."

"A custom wand is something very personal and can tell you a lot about the wizard who wields it." Fred mused. "You know, even the pre-made wands can tell you what talents their owners have, but the custom ones are practically a mirror of the wielder's personality and power."

"Power?" Hermione repeated. "What do you mean by power?"

"Well, ... sort of how much magical energy a wizard is able to control at once. A very powerful wizard's wand conducts more magic at once than a weaker wizard's." Fred explained. "Mum's wand for example is so much stronger than Dad's that it burns his fingers whenever he tries to use it."

"Dad can't focus as much as Mum, you see." George grinned. "That makes him weaker than her."

"So magical power isn't just a matter of talent, but also of mental discipline?" Hermione realised.

Fred shrugged. "I suppose so."

Hermione glanced up at the head table. "Professor Dumbledore's wand must be really powerful."

"I bet he has the most powerful wand in the entire school." Ron agreed. "Maybe even in all the world."

"I don't know about that. At least not the world." Hermione shook her head. "You-Know-Who's extremely powerful as well and there must be other very great wizards out there. It's a big world."

"Not necessarily all of Hogwarts either." George added. "Sometimes a less powerful wizard can be much greater than a very powerful one, you know. A lot depends on how wisely you use your power and Dumbledore's very wise. The most powerful might well be Flitwick. He was a champion dueller, once, you know. Those are usually very powerful, because in duelling a lot depends on the speed with which you cast your spells. A fast wand is a great advantage there."

"Don't discount McGonagall, though." Fred said. "Or Snape. They both cast wordless spells almost casually. That requires a lot of power, too."

"Lupin's no lightweight either." George threw in. "Most of the staff are pretty formidable. I wouldn't place any bets there."

"I still bet on Dumbledore." Ron declared.

"Then I bet on McGonagall." Hermione said.

"You realise that we'll probably never find out, don't you?" Fred reminded them. "We can't just ask them to present their wands for inspection."

"Of course not." Hermione agreed. "This is just for fun. Just say whom you'd support in a competition."

"Okay, I pick Lupin then." George laughed.

Fred hesitated. "Snape." he decided finally.

"What?" Ron gasped. "You'd pick the greasy git? You could take Flitwick, if you don't want to share your champion."

"No." insisted Fred. "I prefer Snape."

"You like Snape better than Flitwick?" Now even Hermione was surprised.

Fred shrugged. "Well, maybe not like, but I respect him. He definitely has the most focus of all the staff. And I find Potions much more interesting than Charms."

Ron buried his face in his hands. "My own brother likes Potions."

"Oh, the shame!" George mocked.

"It's not that impossible." Hermione tried to console him. "It's a very fascinating and useful subject. I find it quite interesting myself, though I prefer Transfigurations. If Fred's talents run that way, why shouldn't he study Potions, even if the teacher is unpleasant."

"In fact, the shame is even bigger." George confided. "You see, I find Potions interesting, too, and don't tell anybody, but I think so does Ginny."

Ron groaned. "My entire family has gone mad. Is Percy really the most sane sibling I have?"

"Percy had an E for his Potions OWL." Fred reminded Ron. "He must have at least made an effort to study for the exam."

"That's because he's perfect Percy and doesn't want to fail anything." Ron decided and turned back to checking his lunch for poisons.

 

Severus's day continued with a double lesson of sixth year Hufflepuff/Gryffindors. In his opinion that was the most unpleasant class he had that year. He'd only inherited them from Professor Vector this very year and in his opinion they were so far behind that he was surprised any of them had passed their OWLs at all.

At least the Hufflepuffs were reasonably well behaved and kept their things in order, even if they didn't know the difference between fairy dust and powdered unicorn horn. The Gryffindors however ...

"Mr. Martins!" he snapped after a single glance into the boy's potions kit. "Whatever is that supposed to be?"

"That, Sir? That's my jar of crushed beetle legs."

"Crushed beetle legs?" Snape repeated and held the jar up so the entire class could see the black, white and green clots inside. "You are absolutely sure that it isn't mildew?"

"Mildew isn't on the sixth year ingredients list, Sir." Anya Goyle commented.

Severus suppressed a sigh. From her cousin Gregory such a comment might have been taken as sarcasm, Anya however was almost too polite and helpful. And the slowest student he'd ever taught. She truly was the perfect cliché Hufflepuff.

'Gods, give me patience.' he thought. After all it wasn't the girl's fault that her no good father had hit her over the head too often when she'd been small. Divorcing had probably been the best thing Artemia Goyle had ever done in her life, despite the scandal it had caused. "I'm aware of that Ms. Goyle. This still looks like a jar of mildew to me."

"I was going to get new ones during the holidays." Stephen Martins lied.

"You'd better get a whole new potions kit to go with them as by now the spores must be everywhere." Snape glared at the boy. "Spoilt ingredients must be disposed of the moment you discover them to save the rest of your stocks."

"I'll just bathe the whole thing in anti mildew potion." Stephen shrugged. "That should take care of it, don't you think, Professor?"

"No, I don't!" Snape snapped. "Ten points off Gryffindor for utter stupidity."

Another student raised her hand tentatively.

"Yes, Ms. Meyers?"

"Why is using anti mildew potion stupid?"

Didn't these fools know anything? What had they been doing in Potions these last five years?

"Anti mildew potion kills off mildew as well as most other plants and insects. Hence most of your ingredients would perish anyway if you apply it to them."

"But what of the kit itself?" Stephen argued. "It's made of Muggle plastic."

"Which is probably why mildew could develop in there so easily in the first place." Snape glared. "It wouldn't suffer any harm from the potion, but the stains and old bubble-gum won't come off easily either. Therefore you'd do best by getting an entirely new and proper kit made from good old fashioned enspelled wood. Now, since last week's assignment was obviously too difficult for you dunderheads, we are going to attempt a simple pepper-up-potion. Do any of you remember the ingredients for that?"

Well, it was somewhat interesting to hear their suggestions. As long as he didn't think of the likely results, if they actually attempted to brew the suggested recipe, at least.

 

Between the sixth years' lesson and the seventh years that were his last class of the day Raven finally managed to retreat into his office and open his letter.

Dear Raven, I apologise for taking so long to answer, but this was not an easy choice for me. Unlike you I was born among wizards and have lived as one of them all my life, as did my father before me. Though I am familiar with the traditions and ways of my ancestors I have never practised them, nor have I had much contact with those who do. By now I believe that I am too old and set in my ways to adapt to a new lifestyle. My place is firmly among wizardkind. I will however aid your search as much as I can without exposing myself. You are no doubt familiar with our cousins who share my lifestyle. As for other relatives, I am descendant of the Stonehenge branch of the family, but have no knowledge of any other members still living there. I think my father once mentioned some of them had moved to Germany or France, though. I am sorry for not being able to give you a more exact address, but father was never very close with his more distant family. Yours respectfully Fleetpaw

"Germany or France." Raven sighed and after re-reading the letter once just to be sure he hadn't missed anything threw it into the fire.

He would not endanger Fleetpaw's life no matter who they were. His original letter had been addressed to the youngest daughter of the family who'd graduated five years ago, but the style of the answer did not match his memory of the former student, nor did the references to age, or an apparently dead father fit her. Most likely his request had been passed on to the family's oldest Catar member, perhaps a parent or even grandparent of the girl he knew.

It was the only answer he'd received to his letters and he'd already given up hope of getting any reaction at all. Considering that this was good news, even though Raven saw little chance to find the surviving Stonehenge clan-members on those scant clues. At least with White Wolf's clan he knew for sure which country to search in.

The most remarkable thing about the letter however was the signature. Yours respectfully? Why would Fleetpaw specifically express respect? They could have ended the letter with a simple sincerely without being in any way impolite.

Yours respectfully. At first glance he'd thought that it was supposed to be some sort of code, but it didn't make any sense. No, Fleetpaw had meant to tell him something else, something more personal even though they were determined to remain a stranger to him as the decision to sign with their secret Catar name proved.

The sound of a door slamming and voices interrupted his musings. Ah yes, the seventh years. At least this was a rather easy class. Most of them could be trusted not to burn water, if he turned his back on them for two minutes, but it still wasn't advisable to keep them waiting. Unsupervised students easily got bored and bored students always came up with the most dunderheaded ideas.

Throwing classmates' kittens out of the window, pouring thirteen random ingredients into a cauldron and setting fire to them or seeing who could conjure the biggest fireball were just a few examples he'd personally witnessed in his not yet twenty years as a teacher. He didn't even want to know what tales veterans like Albus or Minerva could tell.

 

The table shuddered again and for the third time in less than a minute Draco's quill slipped and drew an ugly line through his Transfigurations homework.

"Greg, could you please stop kicking the table? Thank you."

"I'm bored." Gregory complained. "We never do anything fun anymore. I want to go flying."

"The pitch is closed." Vincent remarked.

"I still want to fly."

"Well, you can't." Draco snapped. "None of us can." Transfigurations always put him in a bad mood.

"Then lets go bother some Gryffindors." Gregory suggested. "Maybe we'll even find Potter and Longbottom. Or that Weasley idiot who turned you into a cat."

"I've got to finish my Transfigurations homework." Draco reminded him. "It's already overdue."

"You've always got homework to do this year." Pansy said and gave the table a kick of her own. "And the rest of the time you just disappear. You're no fun anymore."

"I have to study a lot." Draco returned while blotting at the drop of ink Pansy's kick had caused to fall on his parchment. "Father expects me to beat Granger this year and you know how much she studies."

"But you're hardly ever in the library either." Pansy insisted. "You're either with Snape, or you just disappear completely. I want to know where you go."

"Maybe he's got a secret girlfriend in Ravenclaw." Gregory grinned and Pansy shrieked in outrage.

"No, I don't." Draco forced out between clenched teeth. Now he'd completely forgotten what he'd meant to say and he'd been right in the middle of a sentence, too. "I'm just studying more than you're used to. I might get to go to Iceland in the holidays, if my grades are good enough."

"It's a whole year until summer." Pansy pouted. "And Iceland's too cold for swimming anyway. Your Father should take you to France, or even better to Spain. I know that you have relatives there."

"I was talking about the Christmas holidays actually." Draco pointed out. "And Father has nothing to do with that trip anyway."

"Iceland in winter?" Pansy shuddered. "Brrr. It's not called Ice-land for nothing, you know."

"So who's taking you, if not your father?" Vincent asked. "You're not old enough to just go on holiday all alone."

"Oh Vincent, what kind of baby are you?" Theodore who'd just come in and heard only the last sentence snorted. "Can't use the floo without your Daddy holding your hand?"

"They don't let you use international floo alone until you're sixteen." Gregory pointed out. "Draco's going to Iceland for the holidays, but he won't tell us who's taking him."

"Nonsense." Pansy sneered. "He only said that he isn't going with his father, so of course it's his mother that's taking him."

"Is not." Draco frowned. "And now shut up and let me write my essay."

"Not until you tell us who's taking you to Iceland." Pansy insisted.

"Yeah," Gregory agreed. "Come on Draco, tell."

"Alright, alright. It's Professor Snape, but only if I'm good and don't leave any homework to do during the holidays, so I need to get this done. Okay?"

"Snape?" Theo exclaimed. "But why would Snape take you to Iceland? Don't you need your parents' permission for that?"

"He's cleared it with Father." Draco snapped. "And he's taking me, because he was going anyway and I asked to come along."

"But why would either of you want to go to Iceland in the middle of winter?" Pansy was still sneering. "That's just no place to go in winter."

"It's a business trip." Draco explained. "Something or other about special potions ingredients and meeting a fellow potions master."

"Well, I wouldn't want to go on a trip like that." Pansy declared. "It'll probably be dead boring. You'll spend your whole holiday in icy markets watching Snape haggling over obscure ingredients, or being dead bored while he and his friend throw around potions vocabulary you've never even heard before."

"He said we might meet cat animagi there." Draco hissed angrily. "You know, the big kind."

"Snape knows Cata- cat animagi?" Gregory gasped.

"He's heard a rumour that there are some in Iceland." Draco corrected. "He doesn't actually know them, but he knows a lot about their kind."

"Like what?" Pansy demanded. "What does he know that we don't?"

Draco cast a nervous look around, but nobody seemed to be paying them any attention. "That the ones in Iceland have different customs than the ones here. They don't allow marriage with Muggles for example. And I really shouldn't be talking about this. I need to finish my essay."

Gregory looked confused, but Pansy had gotten the hint.

"We can talk on the train home." she said. "It sounds like a good topic to pass away the time on a long trip."

"I'm not going home with you." Draco reminded her. "Not, if I get to go to Iceland."

He sure hoped he hadn't given too much away. Raven had made him promise that he didn't mention anything about Catar or the things he was teaching him to anybody, but he was so excited about their trip that he just hadn't been able to hold himself back.


	11. Chapter 10: Aberdeen International Floo Station

Chapter 10: Aberdeen International Floo Station

 

"Do you think Uncle Algie will play Father Christmas for us again?" Harry asked Neville as they left Hogwarts castle Harry with a big bird cage under his arm, which held his snowy owl Hedwig, and Neville with his beloved toad Trevor sitting in his pocket.

"Why ever not?" Neville returned surprised and double checked that Trevor hadn't hopped away on the way down the stairs. "He's done so every year as long as I can remember."

His caution was unnecessary for once. At this time of the year cold blooded Trevor was much too cold and lethargic to move away from the warm body of his owner. When it was cold toads were actually much cuddlier than owls, Harry often thought.

"Well, I just thought that he mightn't think it appropriate." Harry shrugged jostling poor Hedwig who responded with a sleepy hoot. "After all we're thirteen already. That's a bit old for believing in Father Christmas."

"So?" Neville grinned. "Our family doesn't believe in Father Christmas anyway. Uncle Algie just does that to entertain us."

"Of course they don' believe in him." Harry said climbing into a carriage and pulling Neville in after him. "They're all adults."

"No, I mean that whole Christmas thing." Neville explained. "That's why we don't go to mass either. Or exchange big gifts."

"But you've got a Christmas tree and special food and all." Harry insisted.

"That's an ancient solstice tradition and has nothing to do with the church." said a voice behind them.

Neville squeaked in fright and even Harry started a little. Neither had noticed the lonely girl already in the carriage.

"I'm Luna." she continued happily. "Luna Lovegood. My father and I will celebrate Alban Arthuan this year. With all the old rituals and chants and everything. He promised."

"Shhh!" Neville hissed. "Don't let them hear you!"

"Why?" Luna asked. "You just told us you're not catholic yourself and he's Muggle raised." She nodded towards Harry. "And you wouldn't have told him, if you thought he were a catholic anyway."

"But what if somebody else overhears?" Neville said nervously. "It's dangerous."

Luna stretched lazily and yawned. "I wasn't talking that loudly."

She was wearing a bottle cork on a piece of yarn around her neck. Harry couldn't help but stare.

"That's just a toy." Luna explained. "They're fun to play with."

"Bottle corks?" Harry shook his head. "I'll stick with exploding snap, thank you."

"I don't like explosions." Luna shrugged it off. "Much too loud."

"You ... you're ..." Neville stared at her wide-eyed.

"Yes." Luna stated and stared out the window.

Neville dropped to his knees. "Lady Luna, I ..."

"Oh, stop it. That's ridiculous." Luna said and began to bat her bottle cork about with one hand watching it swing.

Neville blushed, got up and retreated to the other end of the bench from where he watched her reverently.

Harry pinched himself twice to be absolutely sure that he wasn't dreaming, then decided that somebody must have mixed something into his best friend's pumpkin juice this morning. Most likely it was either the Slytherins or Ron was up to some new nonsense.

Maybe he'd meant to slip Hermione a love potion and had mixed up the glasses? At least Harry couldn't see any reason why anybody would want Neville to fall in love with a strange girl on the ride home for Christmas. After all they weren't even here to see the results. Slytherins rarely made such mistakes. Ron on the other hand ...

 

"He could take over the entire staff of all pet shops with Imperius and then polyjuice his agents into animals to spy on unsuspecting customers." Ron explained.

"That's nonsense. You can't use polyjuice to turn someone into an animal." Hermione lectured. "It's only for turning into other humans."

"But, but, but ... He could have a new type of polyjuice!"

Dean Thomas quickly drew his head back from the compartment door. "It's Ron and Hermione." he whispered to Seamus Finnigan. "And he's got some new crackpot theory."

"Let's try to find Harry and Neville." Seamus suggested with a slight shudder. "Maybe we can sit with them."

"Honestly, Ron!" Hermione rolled her eyes and didn't even notice the two boys tiptoe past the door. "Why would You-Know-Who bother to take over pet-shops and develop a new version of polyjuice when he could just as well use normal polyjuice to infiltrate the ministry directly?"

Ron's eyes widened in horror. "Oh no! They are already among us!"

"Ron, polyjuice must be taken every two hours. Don't you think somebody would notice?"

 

"Where's Draco, anyway?" Millicent asked looking around the compartment as if she hoped he'd materialise. "Wasn't he with you?"

"No, he's with Snape." Gregory returned with a slight frown. "He never has time for us anymore."

"Snape's on the train?" Millicent gasped.

"Of course not." Pansy rolled her eyes at her. "They probably took the floo."

"Or more likely they haven't left at all, yet." corrected Theo. "Draco was still packing when we left."

"Snape's taking him to some Potions Masters' meeting or something in Reykjavik." Vincent explained. "He was all excited about it too."

"What's so exciting about Potions Masters anyway?" Gregory pouted.

"He was probably more excited about seeing Reykjavik." Blaise threw in. "It has a very interesting history."

"Draco doesn't care about history." Pansy snapped.

"And he never said anything about Reykjavik or a Potions Master's meeting anyway." Theo added hastily before Blaise could start a lecture about Icelandic history. "All he said was that Snape was going on a business trip to Iceland and would meet another Potions Master. For all we know that might mean that he'll meet an old friend in some mountain cave."

"Oh, come on, why would they meet in a cave and what else would Snape's business be. He's a Potions Master not an Archaeologist." Vincent insisted. "Of course he's going to a big meeting."

"And what other place is there in Iceland than Reykjavik anyway?" Gregory added.

"Oh, you'd be surprised." Pansy grinned.

"Well, what place?" Vincent pushed.

"It's a big country." Pansy declared. "There are lots of cities and towns and places."

"Ha!" snorted Vincent. "You don't know either."

"So maybe I don't." Pansy admitted. "I've never been there, but Snape probably knows."

"That's it!" a voice rang in from the corridor. "I've had it with you, Weasley! We're through!"

A compartment door slammed shut and then somebody stomped down the corridor.

Theo leaned over to the door and pushed the curtains aside just far enough to peer out.

"Granger." he reported. "Should have known our Weasley was behind it."

"I wonder whom he's transfigured this time." Pansy snickered. "That boy is such a hopeless loser."

"Who else?" Millicent agreed.

"So, what do you think you'll get this year?" Blaise asked. "Anything special?"

 

"Ha, got it!" Seamus yelled. "I win!"

The card under his hand blew up and left him staring at his blackened hand.

"Spoke too soon." Dean declared through the others' laughter. "Your turn, Neville."

Neville perched over the exploding snap cards with a look of perfect concentration. He lifted his hand and ...

"Ron is such an idiot!" Hermione announced slamming the compartment door behind her.

... the cards exploded, but at least Neville wasn't close enough to be singed.

"What's he up to this time?" Harry asked with a sigh.

"He is going to expose Fudge as Lucius Malfoy." Hermione declared rolling her eyes.

"Eh ... what?" made Dean.

Harry shrugged nonplussed.

"He thinks Cornelius Fudge is actually Lucius Malfoy under polyjuice." Hermione explained.

"So what about all the times they've been seen together?" Seamus asked.

"That was Narcissa polyjuiced as Lucius." Hermione sighed deeply.

"So Fudge is really Malfoy, who is actually his wife?" Neville summed up.

"Have they been caught kissing, yet?" Dean giggled like Lavender Brown at her worst.

"I don't know." Hermione hissed. "I didn't think to ask that."

"Pity." Seamus declared. "Maybe we should?"

"No, leave it." Hermione ordered sternly. "Don't give him any ideas."

"What sinister plot could he construe out of a kiss?" Neville smiled. "That's innocent enough."

"Dementor's kiss?" Hermione suggested.

"Voldemort's new super weapon, the kiss of death?" Harry added.

"Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss." Dean reminded them. "That's bound to be significant in his theory."

"Narcissa, who looks like Lucius thanks to polyjuice, is a Dementor and will betray Fudge, who is actually Lucius, by giving him the kiss of death." Seamus announced dramatically.

"Wouldn't that be great?" Harry laughed. "It would take care of three problems at once: Fudge ad both Malfoys."

"Ah, but it'd be on You-Know-Who's orders, so it'd be bad and Narcissa would probably get away." Dean declared.

 

"Didn't I tell you to put on the warmest clothes you have?" Raven sneered at Draco's jeans and pullover.

"Those are my warmest Muggle clothes." Rascal pouted. "And I've got fur to keep me warm once we change into our catforms."

"We're not going to change in front of wizards and we're not flooing among Muggles." Raven declared. "Now put on some proper winter robes and cloak and bring your pocket money. We can buy Muggle winter clothes for you there."

"Real Icelandic Muggle clothes?" If they were Icelandic it wasn't so bad that they were Muggle, he thought.

"Yes, a real Icelandic sheep's wool pullover and anorak." Raven promised and Rascal raced back to the dorm to change and add an extra set of winter robes to his luggage.

Twenty minutes later he had to return once again to put all the items Raven had deemed unsuitable for the trip back into the cupboard. For some reason the older cat was dead set against dragging along any extra weight.

Then Severus Snape had to say his good byes to the headmaster and other staff and wish them a merry Christmas. Rascal almost hissed at that. After all every self-respecting cat knew the proper word was Alban Arthuan.

The headmaster kept talking about inconsequential things like socks and Christmas trees.

Rascal had to try hard to stop himself from fidgeting. At least his human form didn't have a tail to twitch. He thought that would have been impossible to control.

To distract himself he exercised his claws behind his back: Right hand claws out, left hand claws in, then left hand claws out and right ones in – right – left – right - ...

"Yes Headmaster, I am sorry to miss the feast as well, but this is the only way I can do this without having to cancel any classes." Professor Snape was saying.

"I understand, Severus. Believe me, I do." the headmaster said sadly. "But we're still going to miss you."

"Especially Potter, I'm sure." Snape sneered.

"Oh, maybe Harry won't necessarily miss you ..."

... left – right – left – no this time he'd unsheathed them all at once. He cast a quick glance down at his shoes, but if he'd unintentionally extended his toe-claws as well, there were no visible holes in them. He'd probably find out only when his feet got wet walking through the snow outside.

"Ah, fare well then, Severus. And do remember to take a warm cloak. Iceland will be icy at this time of the year."

"Of course, headmaster." Snape turned and walked to the door. "Draco? We're leaving."

Draco started. He'd missed the end of the conversation!

"Coming!"

Finally, finally, they were on their way!

The way down to Raven's quarters as it turned out, but only so Raven could grab his luggage, a single backpack, and some floo-powder.

"How do you do it with your claws?" Rascal asked slightly plaintively just before they stepped into the floo.

"Do what with my claws?"

"Well, everything." Rascal almost mewed. "The way you move them, draw them in, snap or just slide them out slowly, move each separately. I even get mixed up trying to alternate between paws."

"Practise." Raven shrugged it off. "I've used my claws all my life, you're only just beginning. Now come on, I'd like to get there before dark."

Rascal considered reminding him that it wasn't even lunchtime, yet, but then he too was eager to leave.

"Where to?" he asked instead.

"Aberdeen, international floo station." Snape informed him and left at the same time.

Aberdeen? Why were they going to Aberdeen? And what was an international floo station? Well, there was no choice but to follow.

"Aberdeen, international floo station." Draco ordered and stepped into the fire.

He ended up in a small cubicle that held a floo and nothing else. A public floo, most likely. Malfoys didn't use something as common as public transport. One look confirmed that Raven wasn't here and he wondered whether he ought to take some floo powder from the pot next to the floo and just head back, but then decided to try the door first.

Outside was a huge, dirty looking hall full of people all hurrying in different directions. Most wore robes, but he also saw some Muggle clothes and even a family in caftans.

He still didn't see Raven, but in here that probably didn't mean anything. People probably got lost in here all the time.

Draco took a few steps further into the hall, then turned around to check where he'd come from. Just in case he didn't find his teacher he wanted to make sure he at least knew the way back.

His cubicle was one in a line of at least ten, though he didn't bother to count. Above them was an inscription in faded gold lettering informing him that this was the 'National British Floo Network'. That much made sense, he decided. Maybe he should start looking for a similar row leading to Iceland?

A sign to his left informed him that there was a bus station that way and a tunnel at the other end of the row of floo cubicles supposedly led to the Ministry of Magic's Aberdeen offices. Other signs he could read from here pointed towards 'street exit', 'Muggle public transport', 'communication fireplaces' and 'information stands'.

Would the information stands be able to locate Raven? They ought to be able to make a 'lost child' announcement, but that sounded too embarrassing for his taste.

Instead he tried his cat-sense. If there were any other Catar around, he ought to be able to feel them.

Yes, there was something that felt like Raven at least. Unfortunately his ability to pinpoint something via cat-sense turned out to be nowhere near as good as the one to identify it. He was pretty sure that the Raven-feeling wasn't coming from the bus station, which made sense. Aberdeen busses were not likely to go to Iceland.

Should he walk away from the national floo and check the signs at the other end of the hall, or should he go right and check the Ministry tunnel? International travel was controlled by the ministry after all. Maybe you had to report there first.

Maybe it would help to get a different angle on the Raven-feeling. If standing this close to the bus station exit could tell him that Raven wasn't there, he might be able to tell whether he was at the Ministry offices once he was near that tunnel and if he could rule both of those out, Raven had to be further down the hall.

He tried to look like he knew where he was going and almost ran past Raven who was leaning against the wall behind the last of the national floo cubicles.

"Some scout you are." he greeted Rascal sarcastically causing the kitten to blush. "I've been waiting for twenty minutes."

So this had been intended as a test for his cat-sense from the very start! And he'd failed spectacularly. Most likely the only way he could have done worse was by really asking for help at the information stands.

"I got distracted." he claimed. "I've never been here before. I was just looking around."

"Are you some clueless Muggle born first year then, that's never seen a floo before?"

"Of course not." Draco pouted. "But I've only used public transport once before. Father says it's filthy." A pointed look at the unidentifiable stains on the black floor backed up the argument.

"So how do you get to the Hogwarts Express each term?" Raven started to walk down the hall and Draco trudged after him. "Seems a bit far to walk, but you're not old enough to apparate."

"I get apparated by a house elf." Draco sneered.

"Apparated?" Severus snorted. "Banished like a bowl of soup to the table, you mean."

"Apparated." Draco insisted.

"House elves can't apparate." Severus returned matter-of-factly. "They can travel by self projection, but that works only on themselves. Objects need to be banished or summoned."

Draco glared at him, but couldn't argue the point. He didn't know all that much about how house elves functioned. They'd just always been there ready to do whatever he demanded. It had never occurred to him to wonder how they did their spells, if they didn't even have wands.

"Do house elves direct magic like Catar?" he wondered.

Raven slapped him over the head. Not hard at all, just swiped his fingers across his hair, really, but the symbolic meaning of the gesture was obvious to Rascal. A well aimed slap in cat form and with the claws out would hurt even if there were little actual force behind it.

"I was just wondering." he defended himself.

"Out loud about things you're not supposed to mention in polite conversation."

Oh right. Don't say Catar in public! Unlike Draco's classmates Raven hadn't even given him a code word for it. It was simply not to be discussed unless they were alone or at least surrounded by several strong privacy charms.

"Sorry."

They were standing in a long line now. Draco couldn't even tell where it ended, though he suspected that that was mostly due to his size. Severus might well be able to see past all those adults' heads, but Draco didn't feel like asking him.

In front of them two obviously African witches were talking in what was probably their tribal language. The only word he recognised was London and even then he wasn't sure. It might just as well have been Longonn and meant something completely different.

The wizard and witch behind them were only minimally more interesting. They appeared to be lovers and were talking in a mixture of mangled English and broken French. Their respective first languages remained a mystery to Draco who wasn't experienced enough to recognised their accents, but it was obvious that neither spoke the others. How those two managed to fall in love the elements might know.

Sometimes the line moved a little faster, then slowed down again. From somewhere to the left and front of them small groups kept walking past them. Most looked like families, but some were alone, or just a parent and child. Or at least he assumed that they were parents and children. Perhaps that was what the others thought of him and Raven as well.

One witch struggled past with two apparently very heavy suitcases and a little girl trailing behind her carrying an owl cage that held ... Well, it definitely wasn't an owl.

"Look, Professor!" he called out. "A parrot."

Raven took one glance at the bird and shook his head. "That's a kookaburra, Draco."

"Coca-what?" He vaguely remembered that Muggles drank things that started with coca.

"Kookaburra, with k. Those must be Australians."

The Australian witches were met by an elderly couple and enfolded in tight hugs.

"Shirley! Oh, it's been so long!" the old witch exclaimed, while the wizard picked up the little girl in one arm, cage, koka-bird and all, and cast long overdue levitation charms on the suitcases, before a group of young wizards in kilts streamed past obstructing his view.

The kilt wearers waved at each other and yelled good byes for several minutes before they finally dispersed. Perhaps a folklore group on the way home from some show?

And all of a sudden there was a desk in front of them and behind it a door led into what appeared to be a corridor.

"Ome do Uganda." the taller of the African witches told the clerk and handed him several roles of parchment.

The wizard read the parchments and nodded a few times.

"Geoffrey!" he yelled at the door when he was done. "Hurry up with that floo, will you. We've got two pretty Ladies to Uganda. Lets not keep them waiting."

"Almost done." Geoffrey sounded as if he were stuck in a pipe.

Maybe he had his head in the floo?

The clerk smiled politely at the African witches and asked them to wait a moment until the African floo had been cleared. Then it was their turn.

"Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts and my student Draco Malfoy." Raven introduced them and handed over three rolls of parchment. "Going to Iceland for academic purposes."

"Academic purposes?" the man asked while glancing though the papers.

"Mostly to observe the potion ingredients market, but I'm also planning to meet the local Potion Masters and teachers." It was a well practised lie by now.

"With a thirteen year old boy? Poor kid."

"I'm not forcing him." Severus defended himself. "It was Mr. Malfoy's own wish to join me."

"I want to see Iceland." Draco added his own lie. "And meet the native wizards. Learn about their history and culture."

The clerk shook his head in wonder. "You're a strange one. I've never seen a teenage boy this eager to go to Iceland before. They all want to go to the USA and France, or Italy."

"I've already been to France." Draco stated. "Now I want to see Iceland."

"Two to Iceland, Keith!" the clerk called out, spelled a seal onto each of the parchments, then returned them to Raven. "Have a good time then."

Keith turned out to be a very round wizard who showed them to the right floo for travelling to northern European countries.

"You could actually use it to go to any European country." he explained to Draco. "But at least half of our customers are travelling within Europe and the floo aligns more easily when the closer the new location is to the last one. So we've assigned regions to all of them."

"What's wrong with the African floo?" Draco asked. "And why can't those witches just take another?"

"It got blocked. Just needs a bit of cleaning, though. Nothing to worry about. They'll have it fixed in a few minutes. And they can't take another, because we have only one outgoing floo connected to the African net right now. Not as much traffic as with Europe, you see."

They didn't have to announce their destination for this trip, just step into the fire and let Keith do the rest. It made Draco a little nervous to have no influence over where he was going. What if Keith made a mistake when aligning the net? Would he end up in some foreign country where nobody understood him, or even be stuck in the empty space between floo networks forever?

Raven stepped into the floo without the slightest hint of hesitation. Of course, it was fire and the fire spirits were their friends. Would the Fire Lady be able to help him in an emergency?

There was a sudden flash and Raven was gone. No choice but to follow.

He stepped into the fire and closed his eyes.

For a moment nothing happened and then there was the familiar spinning sensation of floo travel. It too took a little longer than Draco was used to, but then he touched down in an unfamiliar fireplace.

So at least he hadn't gotten stuck. If he was in the wrong place, he'd just have to keep asking for help until he met a wizard that understood his language, or at least recognised it as English. That ought to cause them to either take him to someone who did speak English, or send him to an English speaking country. He could make his own way home if he ended up somewhere in Great Britain and even, if they mistook him for an American at first, people in America ought to understand 'I'm lost and from Scotland.'. It shouldn't take them long to return him to Aberdeen then.

He stepped out of the fire and into a small pub that looked even darker and colder than the Leaky Cauldron. Hopelessly common. His father would probably strongly disapprove of the place.

It almost surprised him when he saw Raven stand at the bar talking to the young man behind the counter.

The barkeeper wore fur lined robes that looked like they'd been knit rather than sewed from woven fabric. Maybe they were in Iceland after all? Icelanders liked to wear wool, didn't they?

Either way, Raven was here, so it was up to him to find their way for them. Rascal walked up to the bar wanting to get closer to his teacher.

"No, just one night." Raven was telling the barkeeper. "We're not staying in the city."

The man nodded and slid a key over the counter. "Of course. Travelling down the coast? We don't get many tourists at this time of the year. Our country is most beautiful in summer."

"Just visiting some friends." Raven said vaguely. "Ah, there you are, Draco. Lets take the luggage upstairs and have a look around wizarding Reykjavik. We might not have time for sight seeing on our way back."

Draco nodded eagerly. "Weren't we going to buy some warm clothes as well? It's cold here."

"Cold? You only just stepped out of the fire." Raven reminded him. "You're even still wearing your cloak."

"They wear warmer robes here." Draco nodded towards the barkeeper. "I want ones like that."

"I thought you needed warm Muggle clothes?"

"Well, that too." Draco pouted.

The barkeeper laughed. "Children." He said. "Always greedy."

Draco pouted. What did the barkeeper know anyway?

"I'd try Wizardwear for All Occasions, if I were you." the man told Raven. "They've got a nice collection of enspelled Muggle clothes at reasonable prices."

"Are those legal here?" Severus asked sounding slightly surprised.

"Is what legal?" The young wizard looked around at his glasses and bottles trying to spot anything that might look like contraband.

"Enspelled Muggle clothes." Severus explained. "Back in Britain that would fall under misuse of Muggle artefacts. Not a serious crime, but you can get in trouble for it nevertheless."

"Not the kind of spells they offer at Wizardwear." the barkeeper assured him. "They'd never do anything to the clothes that could do harm. Just simple warming charms, wind and water protection spells and protection charms against tearing. That sort of things. I doubt a Muggle would ever notice anything strange about the clothes, if they fell into his hands. He'd probably think them particularly good quality."

"And that isn't illegal?" Severus repeated once again.

"No, of course not. Would it be in Britain?"

Severus nodded gravely. "Indeed it would. If you got caught that is. I doubt anybody would think to check a perfectly ordinary Muggle jumper for spells, though. Yes, I think we'll make Wizardwear for al Occasions our first stop, thank you."

Draco was slightly displeased that Severus had taken a double room rather than two rooms and that only got worse once he saw how small it was. The room looked tiny and crammed full despite holding only two cots, a small table and a single chair and Draco. The ceiling was low and felt oppressive. At first he even worried that Snape would hit his head on it, but apparently it was just high enough not to.

Draco was used to living in a large manor and thought even the Hogwarts dorms left something to be desired.

"It's only for one night." Raven reminded him when he complained about it.

"I won't be able to sleep on that tiny creaky thing."

"Then sleep on the floor." Raven returned mercilessly. "A cat can sleep almost anywhere."

Rascal sighed. Maybe he really was a pampered house cat as Madame Pomfrey had implied when he'd complained about dirty hands and feet after the last excursion into the Sacret Forest.

Those excursions had become rather frequent after the first visit, though Raven hadn't taken him as far into it on any of the later ones. Instead they'd focused on climbing and jumping as well as forest history and what Draco considered Catar Herbology. Lessons about the forest's creatures had been rarer as Raven preferred to have examples for demonstration present and most of the animals avoided the vicinity of the castle due to the many humans about.

It had improved Rascal's success rate at clearing obstacles in his path, but he was still far from Raven's swift and graceful movements and his hunting skills remained abysmal.

And now they'd be travelling in catform through the wilderness of a foreign country! Now that it was too late to turn back, Draco suddenly became aware of all that this trip to Iceland entailed. He could only hope that Raven would be willing to carry him most of the way again.

 

Rejkjavik didn't offer as many wizarding shops as Diagon Alley, but several of those they visited turned out to be bigger than what Draco was used to and they all appeared to carry more Muggle items. Not all the foreign looking products were of Icelandic origin either and he spent some time admiring a wizard's staffs, magical carpets and a magical drum from Africa.

"Those are restricted items in Britain." Raven explained when Draco proposed buying an Indian pipe as a memento. "They are considered pagan. Being caught smuggling them back home would attract attention from the Templars."

"The flying carpets, too?" Draco pleaded. "Moslems aren't pagans, are they?"

"Moslems, to the Templars are almost as bad as Catar." Raven said and returned the pipe to its shelf. "The order was originally formed to fight them, though relations weren't always like this. It was only after the Muggle church outlawed them that the Templars became truly intolerant of other beliefs. I suppose intolerance among humans only breeds more intolerance rather than teach the value of tolerance."

"But if those items are so morally suspect, why can they be sold so openly here?" Rascal asked staring longingly at a snake-charmer's flute from India.

"This is Iceland, not Britain." Raven reminded him. "The Templers' influence is much smaller here. The magical government is very liberal and even the Muggles were never forcefully christianised. They are still very conscious of their pagan history, while in Britain all pre-Christian mythology was forcefully wiped out and even the wizards have forgotten most of it."

"So Catar would have a better chance to survive here?" Rascal realised.

Raven nodded. "It's no coincidence that our only clear trail is here. I do believe that there are Catar in this country. The question is whether we can find them in only two weeks, though. They will be well hidden and my taint will warn them off."

"So you're planning to send me ahead as bait?" Rascal asked. "Their cat sense should recognise me, shouldn't it?"

"We'll see about that." Raven said noncommittally. "They will recognise you as one of their kind, yes, but that doesn't mean they'll approach you, or help you in an emergency."

"What could happen to me here?" Rascal shrugged it off. Wizarding Reykjavik looked if anything more quiet and peaceful than wizarding London.

"We won't find anything here in the city." Raven stated. "They'll be somewhere in the wild, maybe the mountains or further inland. You don't know the dangers of the land. In fact, you can't even deal with the dangers of our own forest."

"Of course I can." Rascal pouted. "I've got claws."

Raven snorted.

"I might not be able to pop them out individually, but I can still slash open a foolish werewolf." Rascal insisted.

"And a werewolf has fangs and isn't easily deterred by pain." Raven countered. "They aren't in control of their own action. Besides a werewolf isn't the most dangerous, nor even the most likely creature to attack you in the sacred forest. What would you do, if faced with a hungry acromantula? Scratch at any random body part until it has you tangled in its web?"

"You said our claws can cut anything."

"Yes, but a full grown acromantula won't be overly impressed by a few claw-deep scratches in its back. It'll feel them, no doubt, but you can't cut deep enough to threaten anything vital there. To kill an acromantula you have to go for its mandibles or eyes and that takes an aimed, precise attack."

"There aren't any acromantulas in Iceland." At least Draco hoped that was true. He wasn't even taking Care for Magical Creatures.

"No, but there are all sorts of dark creatures I doubt Lockhart even mentioned."

"Lupin tells us about dark creatures all the time." Of course they hadn't even done a third of the creatures in his DADA book yet. "He even brings ones to class to practise on."

"Wonderful." Raven sneered. "How about buying you some Muggle clothes at Wizardwear and taking a look around the Muggle city? We're leaving early tomorrow morning and won't have time for sightseeing."

"Muggle sights?" It sounded both disgusting and fascinating.

Despite the many times Draco had been in London he'd only had a few glimpses of the Muggle city. To the Malfoys London consisted of the ministry of magic's offices, Diagon and Knockturn Alleys and their side streets and Kings Cross Station.

"Of course. What else did you want to see?"

Oh well, when he put it like that. His father didn't have to know everything after all.

 

Muggle clothes were interesting, Draco discovered. Wizardwear offered warm jumpers knit from sheep's wool that weren't so different from the jumpers the Weasleys wore, though they looked much nobler in Draco's opinion, thick fur-lined jackets and strange things that Severus referred to as trousers.

Where the tribe raised Catar had learned about weird items of Muggle clothing Draco had no idea, but he seemed quite the expert.

"Your right leg goes though here and the left here, then you pull them up and close them in front. You do know how to use a zip and buttons, don't you?"

"Um ... What's a zip?"

Raven demonstrated. "Your old Muggle clothes had trousers as well."

"But no zip." Draco insisted. "And they were made of proper black fabric."

Raven blinked. "I don't see the difference." he admitted.

"Well, these look strange."

"We could try to find you a kilt, if you prefer to look strange yourself."

Rascal retreated into a cabin to try on the trousers. He had no idea what a kilt was, but it was probably not a good idea to ask.

Instead he concentrated on finding a pair of trousers that fit him so they could get out into the Muggle city. Maybe he could even sneak a closer look at a car while Raven was distracted. He'd always been curious about those.


	12. Chapter 11: A Cat Called Pony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Well, here he is ... and he’s turned out to be a big surprise to me. I had this character planned out, thought I knew exactly who he was. Then I tried to step into his head the first time and he was ... in some ways the opposite of what I expected. ... I love that cat!

Chapter 11: A Cat Called Pony

 

Draco stared moodily at his soup. It was too hot and he was hungry, but this was a Muggle inn, so he couldn't cast a cooling charm on it. He really wished he hadn't come on this trip.

Sure, his new clothes were nice and Reykjavik had been exciting, but things had gone rapidly downhill from there.

Not that Iceland wasn't beautiful. In the wilderness of this country it seemed like a cat could run free forever without reaching its end, but could do and would do, in Rascal's case, were two very different things. Even Raven wasn't too keen on running forever, but Rascal was beginning to suspect that a day long run would have been just the thing for his teacher. If only he didn't have a mewling kitten to drag around.

They'd spent the last week poking around the area where the Fire Lady had told them Whitefang had last been seen, running around as much as Rascal could manage before dropping down in exhaustion and refusing to take another step. The landscape there was breathtaking, Rascal had to admit. Mountains and valleys, ice and volcanoes...

He'd even become somewhat adept at climbing and three days ago managed to catch his first prey. Granted, it had been a very small mouse that had more or less stumbled into his paws and hadn't tasted like much, but it was a start. Maybe he'd be a hunter, yet.

Unfortunately the area had also clearly seen an increase in Muggle activity in recent years and apparently that had driven White Wolf's Clan away. They'd seen neither paw print nor hair of them all week, so Raven had decided that they needed to try their luck elsewhere.

This morning he'd produced a port-key from spirits knew where and taken them further inland into what he swore looked like a desert of black stone when it wasn't a single white snow blanket. Rascal had taken his word for it, as he hadn't felt like digging.

Running was easier here where there weren't as many obstacles in his way, but it was also boring. There were barely even any animals to watch when over the last week he'd become accustomed to seeing everything from tiny mice to ponies easily twice the size of an adult Catar pass him casually as they went about their respective businesses. Whatever the business of a mouse or wild pony might be.

He'd been fascinated by the half wild sheep who supplied the native Muggles with wool for jumpers just like the one he was wearing, but spent the winter wandering happily through the mountains. Raven had assured him that the Muggles would find them again, but Draco couldn't imagine how.

Here everything was boring and empty and he doubted there was anywhere a whole clan of Catar could hide. He didn't understand why Raven had decided to search here of all places. White Wolf's Clan could be anywhere on the island.

"Don't you think we should go back into the mountains?" he tried. "It's much nicer there. Maybe different mountains where there are fewer people. I don't think any cat would like this dead land."

"It's not so dead to those who know where to look." Raven returned. "This place has a history for these people, Muggle and wizard alike. Clan leaders used to meet not all that far from here."

"It's still no place to live." Draco insisted, but Raven's head jerked up and to the door suddenly and he realised he'd lost his teacher's attention.

Annoyed Draco looked towards the door as well, but there was nothing there. He was just about to turn back to his soup when he began to feel it, too.

Something had just entered the outer perimeter of his cat-sense. Something strong, and it was coming closer.

With his heart hammering wildly he tried to focus all his attention on that something and found that it felt a lot like Raven, though different ... somehow clearer and stronger. No, not actually more powerful, just more definite, cleaner. Whoever this was felt no reason to hide his magical signature.

He was surprised at that thought as it had never before occurred to him that one might be able hide from cat-sense, or that Raven was doing so, or even had any reason to. Perhaps he was misinterpreting this anyway. This was only the second Catar he'd ever sensed.

That it was a Catar, though, Rascal didn't have the slightest doubt. Here was the real adventure then. His first ever 'Northerner' and second ever Catar!

Draco gulped. Now he was nearing the door.

"Eat your soup." Raven ordered softly and Rascal obeyed even though it burned his tongue.

Behind him the door opened with a slight creaking sound and a man in a grey and white cloak stepped in calmly and quietly. The sound of the few present Muggles' conversations faded away as one by one they noticed and apparently recognised the newcomer whose eyes quickly scanned the room, then stopped to regard Raven.

Even as he answered the Muggles' greetings his look remained fixed and measuring upon the other Catar.

 

He'd been hearing rumours about two foreigners wandering the land and dropping strange hints for days before a kitten had bounded in with the news that he'd seen the trail of two Catar, an adult and a kitten, apparently headed towards the village. Here they were then and that meant they were looking for him. Better to meet them now on his own terms and discover their intentions than to allow them to move on and perhaps stumble upon the entire clan unexpectedly.

To his surprise he'd felt the adult almost as soon as he'd entered the village. A powerful priest, then. Felt almost like a high priest, though he lacked the distinct signature of one thus initiated.

A closer scan caused him to stop, then continue with more caution. There was dark magic in the stranger's aura, strong, though mostly old.

Was this a dark Catar then? He'd never met one and had no idea what they felt like, though he'd always imagined them to be surrounded by a strong sense of dark magic. This seemed much too mild.

He had occasionally met people who dabbled into the dark arts, or tried a single dark spell once in their youth. They felt much like this, but weaker. Was this the residue of several stronger spells, then?

There was more to it, though. Some dark spell that clung to the stranger, but was of a different signature. Something that had been cast on him with lasting effect. Dark and dangerous it caused his fur to rise even in his human form.

He clung to the familiarity of his surroundings to calm himself.

Should it come to a fight he had the advantage of familiar territory at least. He wished he hadn't so foolishly left all the others behind. He hadn't wanted to appear threatening, hoping to avoid a confrontation by being friendly, but then he'd also expected the strangers to be clearly weaker than himself.

This one might well be able to match him, though, and no matter how young the kitten was, any ally might be enough to tip the scale in an even fight.

Yet, the very fact that the stranger had brought a kitten with him, indicated that he didn't expect any danger on the trip. Perhaps the little one's presence was even meant to demonstrate his peaceful intentions.

He could feel the kitten now. Young, oh so very young, his magic vague and as yet undefined. Well trained in wand magic, he noted with a touch of surprise, but quite the novice at real magic.

Ah yes, foreigners, of course. Under even more pressure for secrecy than his own clan, they were probably too afraid to allow their young to use their powers freely, hampering the poor things' development in exchange for survival.

Perhaps these two were refugees then, sole survivors of a brutally slaughtered clan searching for another clan to adopt them? It had happened before, though a while before his time. Still that possibility put things into a new perspective and he was feeling much friendlier as he stepped into the inn.

The innkeeper greeted him respectfully as always. The rumours here called him a wizard and he did nothing to either en- or discourage it. They respected him, but weren't hostile and he was comfortable with that.

Today his interest was in the stranger, though, and he declined the Muggle's offers.

The other's eyes were deep and dark. Though his look wasn't hostile, they gave away nothing.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the kitten fidget, but the adult gave the impression of being completely relaxed. Too bad he was in human form. A twitching tail tip could indicate tension even in an otherwise relaxed cat.

Was this one just good at pretending, or had he indeed faced situations that made this encounter fade to insignificance before? He considered the stranger's aura a hint towards the later.

That darkness was getting to him again. He wanted to turn around and flee from it, or chase off the offending creature. Yet at the same time the stranger looked interesting and friendly and it was too late to change his mind now anyway. He had revealed his presence and had to see this through.

Courtesy demanded that he sniff noses with these two. And here he didn't even know whether they spoke his language. 'English then. Most people understand that.' he thought at himself. 'Lets just give them a sniff and see what happens.'

 

Raven watched the grey cloaked Catar curiously. It was obvious that this meeting was not a coincidence. This one was too powerful to be just any random clan member. Most likely this was the high priest himself come to inspect the strangers.

Clearly he knew the Muggles well, would have their support, if it came to a fight, which Raven thought was a distinct possibility. This close no Catar could miss his dark magic taint. What he didn't know was whether this one would react aggressively or merely with disgust.

He wasn't sure which of the two scenarios he preferred. An attack would give him the chance to offer surrender which should prove his peaceful intentions, while leaving meant that he'd have to follow the stranger and hunt him down, but that they'd be able to talk in a more private location.

Rascal might be a problem, if it came to a fight, he thought. The kitten was nervous and inexperienced. His reactions couldn't be predicted. Raven wasn't really worried about the possible outcome, though. This Catar was powerful, most likely more so than himself, and the Muggles gave him the advantage in numbers, but they definitely weren't Voldemort and his death eaters. If there was one thing Raven had learned in two wizard wars it was how to fight dirty using both magic and his fists. He'd survived worse situations thanks to those skills.

After what seemed like an eternity the stranger seemed to have made up his mind and approached their table. Was he actually going to swallow his pride long enough to hear him out?

With a noncommittal "Well, hello." the stranger pulled up a chair and sat down.

Raven hesitated. The best case scenario he hadn't been willing to hope for, but could have handled would have been a formal greeting which would have determined clear rules for the rest of their exchange. Instead the stranger's opening move had left everything open. It didn't even necessarily have to be classified as a greeting at all the way he'd said it. The only clear message was that he didn't plan on attacking right away.

"Are you Whitefang then?" Raven ventured feeling rather unsure how to proceed.

Another pause. The stranger looked at him sideways and with a touch of surprise.

"Whitefang died three years ago." he stated with a slight shrug then. "My name's Greypony. Grey to them." He nodded towards the Muggles.

A wild card then.

Not that they actually knew anything about Whitefang either.

"I'm sorry. His name is the only thing we actually know of your clan."

"Greypony, head of White Wolf's Clan, supposedly guardians of southern Iceland. Not that that actually means much these days." Another shrug, the hint of a smile. "And you are?"

"Raven, head of the Sacred Forest Clan, from Scotland." He attempted a smile as well. "Not that that means anything at all these days."

Greypony tilted his head at him and raised an eyebrow. He had the air of a generally friendly young nobleman. A people person. Charming even in human form, but Raven suspected sharp claws underneath. He would hardly have been accepted as a leader otherwise.

"The kitten and I are all that's left of the clan." he nodded towards Rascal who gave him a wide eyed look back. He hadn't signed up for clan membership, but then a cat had to belong somewhere, especially an untrained kitten.

"Cute little fellow." Greypony opined. "He transform yet?"

A test? He most likely already knew. After all he'd known where to find them and they'd travelled most of the way in cat form.

Raven nodded. "Name's Rascal." Two could play this game.

Another pause as both pretended not to be interested and Rascal stared at Greypony.

"Are you here to woo our women, then? You're clearly too old to want a girl and the kitten's definitely too young."

Raven blinked in surprise. Whatever had given Greypony that idea?

He asked. It was probably the weirdest move he could make right now to openly admit his confusion, but perhaps, if Greypony found him amusing...

"Well, you're obviously not looking to join up with us, if you claim clanmaster status." Greypony leaned comfortably back into his chair. "Scotland is a bit far for a casual visit and our clans have never been close friends. It's a bit too late for your clan to request assistance, but clearly you are in need of females if you are going to rebuild it."

Raven blinked some more. Rascal was staring open mouthed now.

"Then again, you mix with humans down there, don't you?" Greypony remembered. "You've got me then. I have no idea what you could want from me and mine."

"We ..." Raven shook his head to clear it and pushed the ridiculous thought of weddings and raising kittens aside. "I'm in no position to start a family. We came with a message from the Fire Lady. She wishes to know whether White Wolf's clan still survives."

This time it was Greypony who blinked. "Of course we survive. Why wouldn't we?"

"She hasn't heard from you in a while." Raven explained. "I think she's feeling lonely. You might want to drop her a call every once in a while."

"And that makes her assume that we're dead?" Greypony sounded doubtful.

"Actually she sent us this way, because she thought you were the most likely to be alive. Her message is to all the clans."

Greypony sat up and leaned forward to stare straight into Raven's face for the first time since he'd sat down.

"You are trying to collect a high council?"

Raven snorted. "Hardly. I'm lucky to have found you at all. I didn't expect you to be willing to talk to a tainted one, but I promised the Lady to try and will do as much as I can. If you are in contact with any other clans, or have an idea where to find them, I would like to pass the message to them as well. Otherwise, I have another trail I can try to follow."

Greypony continued to stare. It would have unnerved a human, but cats did tend to get this intense when willing to admit an interest.

"Your clan made you master despite that ... taint." he pointed out.

"The last surviving clan member revoked my banishment with his death and declared me his successor to keep the clan alive." Raven sneered. "Some honour."

"You are the Fire Lady's champion." Greypony countered.

"Messenger boy." Raven corrected.

Greypony took that in, then grinned. "I like you."

Raven blinked.

Greypony laughed. "No really, you're one unique cat."

 

Two hours later they were ready to leave the inn and spend the night with Greypony's clan instead. Draco wasn't entirely sure what to think of the invitation. The prospect of meeting an entire clan of Catar was exciting of course, but the inn, shabby as it was, offered a lot more comfort than a Catar hut was likely to and he was still tired, though no longer hungry.

"Is it far from here?" he asked Greypony and almost jumped back when the high priest turned to look at him.

"Only a little under two hours run." It was the first time Greypony spoke to him directly and Rascal suddenly felt very tiny and insecure. "You know, I have a kitten only a little older than you. He's waiting just outside the village. I bet he'll be excited to meet you."

"A kitten?" Draco looked to Raven for help.

How was he supposed to act around another kitten? All of Raven's etiquette lessons had concerned adult Catar.

"He's never had a playmate before." Raven explained to Greypony. "You might want to warn your kittens that he plays rough. Hasn't learned to control his claws properly, yet."

Rascal blushed. "I can keep them in just fine. ... At least in human form."

"He'll be fine." Greypony decided. "Loki's a big boy. He can take a few scratches."

He stopped just out of sight of the village. Draco blinked trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness and when he looked that way again, there was a long furred grey cat sitting in his place. He really did look almost as big as a small pony, Draco thought.

Raven melted into his cat-form with his usual grace and stretched, then stuck his head out towards Greypony to sniff noses.

Rascal changed forms with his usual graceless pop, but Greypony didn't seem to notice. He took only a moment to sniff, then made a half-step forward to rub his cheek against Raven's head.

At first Raven stiffened at the intimate greeting, then tentatively rubbed back.

Greypony took it as an invitation for a full body rub. Only after making sure to mix their smells all over did he turn to greet Rascal.

Even though he'd rubbed heads and even been licked before Rascal felt quite nervous when that huge muzzle poked into his face. He only received a short rub and long lick down his entire body, though.

Apparently Greypony really did like Raven.

"Meeow?" Greypony called out imperiously and gazed into the wintry landscape.

Nothing happened and he set off at an easy trot with Raven and Rascal right behind him. Every few metres he repeated his call, though, until finally a distant "Mew?" could be heard in return.

Without warning Greypony took off at a run towards the voice. Raven caught up with him in a few long bounds, but Rascal's short tired legs were unable to match the speed. He struggled after them in what he suspected was more a footsore frog's hop than a Catar's powerful jumps.

By the time the two adults stopped he was lagging behind quite a bit and couldn't really see what was going on, but several happy mews indicated that Greypony had found his kitten.

Then there was silence. Most likely Raven was sniffing Loki and then they would ...

They wouldn't just run on without waiting for him to catch up, would they?

A pitiful "Mewl!" escaped him at the thought.

Oh, how embarrassing! And this time Greypony had noticed, too. The huge Catar wheeled around and came bounding back.

Moments later Rascal felt himself being picked up by the scruff of his neck. He stiffened as Greypony carried him back to Raven and Loki and then he was dropped into the snow right between two huge grey paws.

He turned his head to look up at Greypony, but the older cat wasn't even looking at him. His whole attention seemed to be fixed on the smaller grey cat sitting next to Raven and his expression was so much like Raven's when he dragged up a new toy for Rascal, that he could only read it as 'Look what I brought you!'.

Loki looked. He was a good hand-span taller than Rascal and though just as furry didn't look at all ball-like. He looked lean and long with stalk-like legs that seemed to be just made for running and jumping.

Loki craned his head to get a better look.

Rascal backed up and collided with a strong furry paw.

"Mew?" he asked very softly.

Greypony bent down and pushed him forward with his nose.

"Mew!" Loki announced happily and jumped him.

They rolled out from under Greypony's nose and Rascal soon found himself on his back with Loki standing over him and mock-biting his ears.

"Mew!" Rascal decided and sank his fangs into fluffy grey leg-fur.

"Meeow!" Greypony ordered again and started off further into the darkness.

Loki immediately let go of Rascal and stood back to let him get up.

"Meow." he announced once Rascal was back on his feet, walked around him once, then headed after the adults who were once again running, though more slowly than before.

Perhaps Loki wasn't such a bad guy, Rascal decided a few minutes later when the older kitten helped to pull him back up after a stumble over a protruding rock.

"Me – chhrr!" Rascal told off the unimpressed rock and Loki slapped it with his paw for good measure.

Rascal's ears perked up. "Chrss!" He jumped the rock.

"Chrss!" Loki imitated and added a mock-bite.

"Meeow!" this time it was Raven calling them to order.

Rascal sighed remembering the long way still ahead of them and hopped on.

A few minutes later Loki ambushed him with a snowball. Well, actually it was more of a snow chunk. Catar paws were no use at forming snowballs, so he'd probably just found a natural chunk on the way.

No matter its origin, though, it needed killing! "Chrss!" hooray!

Further ahead the adults stopped to look back at the kittens.

Raven sighed impatiently, Greypony tilted his head in amusement. One ear twitched ... And then he nipped Raven playfully and took off.

The black panther was after him in a heartbeat and he was fast. Greypony dodged to the side causing him to overshoot the mark, but Raven twisted around and caught his tail with a well aimed swipe of his left front paw.

Left-handed? No, he'd used his right hand when he'd shrunk his and Rascal's luggage back at the inn. Damned trained to attack with either paw!

Ah, but he'd show him. He had a few tricks of his own to play!

And the chase was on.

The kittens stopped among the remains of their snow chunk when the adults sailed over them in a streak of black and grey. Rascal watched open-mouthed as they jumped, dodged and fainted.

And he'd thought Loki looked scary!

This was obviously just a game, but the two adult Catar were a terrifying sight. All muscle, claws and fangs, every movement powerful, fast and precise.

With his fur fluffed up like this Greypony looked even bigger and seemed to dwarf Raven, but the smaller cat's white fangs stood out viciously against his black fur and when he snarled he looked like he was about to eat Greypony alive.

Even after the adults stopped their game, panting but happy and began to lick each other's fur back in place Loki looked wide eyed and excited. It seemed like even he didn't see such displays every day.

 

White Wolf's Clan lived in wooden huts covered with earth and stones. They looked like a group of small snowy hills from afar, Draco thought. He was slightly disappointed. This was definitely not the way Raven's clan had built their huts back in the Sacred Forest. It leaned too heavily on the materials provided by the terrain.

The inhabitants all seemed friendly, though they wrinkled their noses at Raven at first, finding his aura strangely unsettling.

After the required formal greetings, which the clan observed diligently, even if their leader had not, Loki had turned into his human form, a tall boy with hair only a slightly darker shade of blond than Draco's own.

It had come as a surprise to Rascal that Loki's hair colour didn't even approximate that of his fur. When he thought about it the same was true for Greypony, though. He wondered whether that was unusual, or it was just a coincidence that Raven was black and he blond.

Loki hadn't given him much time to think, though. He'd dragged him off to introduce the clan's other kittens right away.

Rascal felt a bit better about his cat-form after he learned that Loki was already fourteen and met two thirteen year old boys who hadn't had their first transformation, yet.

The two younger kittens made an attempt to snatch Rascal away for a game, but were quickly chased off by Loki in a stream of Icelandic. Their broken English had been almost impossible to understand anyway.

Not that Loki was fluent, but he did at least make sense most of the time.

"Babies." Loki explained after kicking the boys out of the circle in which the kittens had assembled. "Real cat no have to play baby games."

It felt good to automatically be accepted by the older group, but it also made him the youngest and smallest kitten. The oldest, a girl named Blueeye, was already seventeen and as tall as Raven in her cat form, though her body still looked more long legged and thin than a full adult's. Kitten-wrestling with her turned out to be a hopeless affair, but luckily she treated him gently using no more force than absolutely necessary to hold him down.

Later Loki took him to the back of the village where the clan's ponies were kept. Rascal laughed when introduced to Greypony's fluffy grey stallion. The horse reminded him so much of his rider.

"This my mother's." Loki pointed at a shaggy brown and white pony a few metres ahead. "Name Flugga. Tomorrow we ask borrow. You ride Flugga. I show you Iceland. Yes?"

"Er, that's a really nice idea, Loki, but I can't ride. We could go running, though."

"No matter. Riding easy. I show you." Loki nodded eagerly. "You'll like."

 

Indeed there seemed to be no way around it as the very next morning before Rascal was even fully awake Greypony appeared with not only Flugga, but also a pretty black pony for Raven which Rascal didn't remember seeing before. Most likely it had been borrowed from another family.

"Oh you just have to come along." he insisted when Rascal once again pointed out that he couldn't ride. "You just can't visit Iceland without going on at least one ride."

Draco looked doubtful.

"Is easy." Loki promised again. "I show you."

"Flugga's a very tame pony." Greypony assured him. "She won't give you any trouble. You can just sit on her back and do nothing and she'll follow the other horses."

Draco wasn't sure whether he found that reassuring or not, but when Raven gave him a few tips about interpreting horse behaviour it did indeed seem like Flugga had a submissive, slightly dull personality.

He did his best to imitate Loki's demonstration of how to mount a horse and found that she did indeed start walking when he kicked her sides lightly. Steering her wasn't hard. She went wherever her nose pointed without complaint so all Rascal had to do was pull on the reins.

The others seemed to have a more subtle way to steer a horse, but at least it worked.

What Draco couldn't figure out was how to control the speed. When he pulled on the reigns Flugga usually stopped, but when he let them loose she didn't get faster. Kicking set her in motion, but didn't speed her up either.

She did have a tendency to do whatever she saw the other ponies do, though, so the group never lost him.

Riding was less exhausting than running he had to admit and the land was more beautiful with Loki next to him to point out the plants and animals and tell him their Icelandic names. Whenever he could Rascal responded with the English word, though many plants were unfamiliar to him.

Ponies seemed to be to the Icelandic kittens what broomsticks were to Hogwarts students. A way to get around, a status symbol and a means to participate in various games and competitions. In addition they also were living creatures that could be petted and loved. Much like an owl or cat a pony was a cat's loyal friend and offered a friendly ear and comfort for a kitten's woes.

 

"It does Rascal good to have another kitten to play with." Raven remarked seeing the boys ride side by side talking and laughing. "I've never seen him behave this naturally with human children."

"Humans are different." Greypony agreed. "How do you expect a kitten to relax when he has to be mindful of hiding his claws at all times? Humans just aren't the right companions for a cat."

"Maybe not, but they can be good friends."

"Can't run with them, can't climb or hunt." Greypony stated. "You say yourself that your clan has been too week to protect its land for a long time, so why do you stay? You could raise that kitten here, happy and healthy among his own kind. We'd love to have you."

"I have obligations I can't just abandon like that."

"Your forest will keep and do you really expect Rascal to bring a human mate there? They do not take to our lifestyle well. If he's forced to raise his kittens on her terms, that'll be the end of your clan for sure. Let him grow up here where he can find a proper cat to raise proper kittens with."

"The clan will probably end with me anyway. There are other obligations, though, that I can keep."

"If you took a mate yourself, you should be able to keep the clan alive." Greypony argued. "And perhaps one or two of our kittens would want to follow you home someday. Young cats are easily tempted by adventure."

"Which can lead to all sorts of dangers. You should not let them run wild." Raven warned him remembering his own foolish decisions as a youth. "And remember what I am. I cannot expect a woman to put up with me."

"Oh, will you stop it. I bet there are some who'd find that bit of dark in you attractive."

Raven shot him a look.

"Or maybe not." he conceded. "But you're not the only one who's ever dabbled in the dark arts and they all found fine mates anyway. Maybe particularly fine ones, because they were wise enough not to expect perfection."

"My case is a bit more than dabbling. I was thoroughly trained. Anyway, it's beside the point. Other things must come first for me."

"Your message? It makes no difference what country you return to." Greypony smiled. "Go on, find whatever other cats you can. Bring some back, if you can, in fact. I'd like to meet them, perhaps set up diplomatic relations." he winked. "But leave the kitten here. The continent is too dangerous for one so young and we will care for him."

"I need to return the kitten – and myself – to school at the end of the Christmas holidays or the humans will notice and ask questions."

"They're only humans. Just walk out on them and let them wonder. They'll assume you suffered an accident most likely."

"I gave Albus Dumbledore my word to stay until the end of the war and make up for my mistakes." Snape stated. "I will not go back on that."

Greypony blinked. "Dumbledore? That old English warlock?"

"Scottish school headmaster." Raven corrected. "I'm his Potions teacher."

"He can find another." Greypony said matter-of-factly. "There're enough curious kittens here, if you enjoy teaching so much." He paused, then continued more slowly. "But that's not it, is it? Dumbledore's much more than a simple teacher. Everybody knows that. The school is merely a facade and perhaps so are the teaching jobs?"

"The training of the young wizards is important, as is keeping them from temptation by the dark."

"Yet, there should not be any connection between the war and teaching children. What do you really do my secretive friend?" Greypony looked at him with his head tilted again. "You are a trained and experienced fighter, Mr. Potions teacher. That much is obvious. And you say you've been well trained in the dark arts. Their main use is in aggressive magic. Dumbledore is the main warlock standing against the dark lord. He doesn't want to lose his only Catar, does he?"

Raven snorted. "Albus Dumbledore has no idea what I am. He'd like to have a Catar army, yes, but to him I'm just his head spy."

"Secret agent, are you?" Greypony teased.

"Discovered ex-agent. I'm useful for my knowledge of the enemy and unsavoury contacts mostly." Raven admitted. "You can probably imagine what will happen, if I disappear. Not to mention the kitten's father is one of the main wizards on Voldemort's side. He wants his son to learn how to use his Catar abilities, not to actually live as a Catar."

"Ah, so he isn't actually yours. I was wondering about that." Greypony nodded. "The human has no right to him, though. Especially since he is a dark wizard. We'd be saving the kitten from the dark arts, if we let him disappear."

"Lucius Malfoy is not a wizard one should toy with. He is clever, has money, a lot of influence on both sides and is a master of the dark arts. In some ways I fear my old friend Lucius more than his master."

They rode on in silence for a while.

"There is another clan high in the mountains." Greypony said suddenly. "We aren't talking, but I can send Mistwalker a bird. I expect he'd at least read the letter."

Raven's eyes widened in surprise. White Wolf's clan had seemed completely isolated from what he'd seen so far. "Do you think he'd be willing to meet me? You don't have to come along, if you want to avoid them."

Greypony smiled. "From what little I remember of him Mistwalker is proud and suborn, as was Whitefang. He broke off contact after one of our hunting groups crossed his border without permission and Whitefang refused to pay reparations. I wonder whether he'd accept a late apology, though."

"You might want to offer him a meal." Raven suggested. "As a sort of return of the meat you took."

"That's the root of the problem." Greypony laughed. "Our hunters never caught anything, so we'd have had to pay just for passage, which isn't part of the border agreement."

"But a meal would be due a guest." Raven said. "Invite him over for Alban Arthuan?"

Greypony shook his head. "That's in two days. I doubt he could get here in time and he wouldn't want to miss his own clan's celebration. We should give him at least a week after that."

"That's the day term starts again at school." Raven argued.

"Then be late." Greypony said easily. "Send them an owl saying you're snowed in and the boy can't apparate out."

"Then they'd ask why I can't make him a portkey."

"Okay, then say a relative has died. You want to attend his burial."

"They know I have no surviving family."

"You're caring for a sick friend?"

"Not likely." Raven snorted. "I might get away with telling them a fellow Potions Master has invited me to join him in some special experiment. If questioned for details later I can throw some advanced Potions theories around. That will convince them it's over their heads."

"Good enough, but what about the kitten?"

"Too young to be allowed to travel via international floo on his own." Raven smirked. "I doubt they'd even bring that up as long as I remember to inform Lucius of the delay."

 

Dear Father!

We are now staying with some friends further inland and exploring the Icelandic countryside here. There are children of my age and kind here who are teaching me a lot of interesting things. You will be happy to know that I am spending a lot of time outside exercising and my physical skills are improving daily. Going to Iceland was a great idea. There is so much space here where I can practise undisturbed and Professor Snape has been able to demonstrate some very interesting new tricks. Most of those are still beyond my skill, but I am working hard to improve. I hope you don't mind that we will be returning a week late for the new term. Professor Snape wants to meet some apparently very influential colleague, but unfortunately that person doesn't have time for him until next week, so we have decided to extend our visit. I promise to make up by working especially hard when I return to school.

Love, Draco

Raven nodded and put down the letter. "Not bad, but I suggest you take out the part about your 'kind'. It might arouse suspicion."

"It won't." Rascal shook his head. "They'll just think I mean purebloods or wizards and I need to convince Father that this trip has improved my fighting skills."

"Very well," Raven sighed. "I'll send it."

"Great! Can I go hunting with Loki now? Please?"

"Alright, but I have to warn you that he is a terrible hunter." Raven said to Loki who was standing behind Rascal with his tail tip twitching excitedly.

"I'm learning." Rascal pointed out. "Bet you I'll catch something this time."

Raven laughed and let them go. Maybe the kitten would become a halfway decent Catar, yet. It had been an interesting experience to actually watch him in direct comparison to other kittens. He wasn't really that much clumsier than Loki when it came to claw control and his jumping would naturally improve as his legs grew longer.

He was a little worried about Rascal participating in the Alban Arthuan rituals, but Greypony wouldn't hear of them just watching and the kitten had to learn sometime. With so many cats to share in the ritual Rascal's part would be small at least.


	13. Chapter 12: Alban Arthuan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Hm ... This was supposed to be the last chapter set in Iceland. Something’s once again not running to plan ...

Chapter 12: Alban Arthuan

 

Rascal's hunting success rate did not improve much over the next two days, but his confidence in his riding abilities did.

Flugga reliably lost any race she participated in, much to the amusement of the White Wolf kittens. Rascal got the vague suspicion that her name must mean something like fast or racer, but didn't ask what the joke was. He felt comfortable riding the slowest horse and she didn't belong to him anyway. She was only borrowed.

At least he dared to participate in most riding competitions by the time they set out for the festival grounds.

It was surprising how fast the clan could pack up its entire camp onto the backs of about twenty ponies leaving only the empty huts behind. Greypony's grey stallion was soon carrying his owner's entire home including not only Greypony's own possessions, but also those of Loki, his mother and little sister.

"Of course a few shrinking spells and weight reducing charms went into the packing." Raven explained to the wide eyed kitten with slight amusement. "What did you expect?"

"Oh." He was almost tempted to ask whether somebody had cast a weight reducing charm on Raven himself as well. The older Catar seemed so much younger all of a sudden. He actually smiled a lot and Rascal had even heard him laugh with genuine happiness a few times. It didn't seem wise to point that out, though.

"There don't seem to be enough horses left for everybody." He said instead.

"There aren't meant to be." Raven explained lazily stretching his claws. "They're only needed for those who are too young to transform and perhaps some elderly or otherwise disabled cats."

"I'm supposed to run?" Rascal yelped.

Raven laughed. "Kittens may ride as we'll be moving too fast for short legs."

Rascal breathed a sigh of relief, then remembered another problem.

"Won't they need Flugga for somebody else, though?" he asked. "Who rides her normally?"

"Birra." answered Greypony with a shrug. "She'll have to take Blueeye's stallion this time. If she can manage that one without accident, I might get her her own horse in spring."

It took Rascal a moment to remember that Birra Grey was the human name of Loki's little sister. As she hadn't transformed yet, she wasn't yet worthy of a real name, though the other Catar rarely used the human one. Loki addressed her as 'Little Sister', to the other kittens she was 'Loki's Sister' and her parents called her 'Baby' or 'Little Kitten'. He couldn't remember hearing any of the other adults speak of her, but supposed she'd be either 'Greypony's Daughter' or 'Birra' to them. After all there was more then one kitten below transformation age in the clan. They couldn't quite call all of them Baby without constant mix-ups.

"And Blueeye?" Rascal asked.

"Blueye's a big cat." Greypony said. "Long legs, light body. They're faster than adults at that age."

"So what happens at the festival grounds?" Rascal pushed excitedly.

"Lots of things." Greypony grinned mischievously. "But little kittens only get to participate in the traditional festival rituals." A furtive glance towards Raven. "Everything else is adult business."

"But what adult business?" Rascal mewled.

"That, kitten, is none of your business."

"Mew." Rascal complained and turned a begging look towards Raven.

"The Alban Arthuan ritual is for everybody, but such festivals are often used for other rites for which there is no fixed date as well." Raven explained. "Greypony might be planning an honouring ceremony for a worthy clan member, an initiation, or wedding, or perhaps a ritual to thank the gods for healing or protecting someone. All of those are for priests only."

"So he didn't tell you either?" Rascal gasped.

"He did, though perhaps not everything." Raven shrugged. "Especially honouring ceremonies are often kept secret until just before the event so they'll come as a surprise to the honoured cat."

"So what did he tell you?" Rascal mewled pleadingly.

"Can't tell you." Raven said. "Well, everybody knows there'll be a wedding and we're going to talk to the Fire Lady, but the other thing's top secret. And don't you dare tell anyone that there is another ritual planned."

"Not even Loki?" Rascal pleaded. It'd be hard to keep such exciting news from his constant companion.

"No." Raven hissed. "Especially not Loki. None of your friends may know."

Rascal pouted a little, but then Loki appeared on his pony eager to leave and he hastily swung himself on Flugga's back. On the slow mare he'd never catch up to the other kittens, if he lost them and would probably be forced to ride with Birra and the other babies.

The older kittens rode as a separate group most of the way, sometimes exploring the terrain ahead, sometimes stopping to play some game and falling behind, then catching up in a race. It was strange to race without Blueeye, but after an hour of bickering and hissing at each other Blacktoe, one of the older boys, took the lead and the others just fell in behind him.

Loki had stayed mostly out of the disagreements and Rascal had taken his clue from him, but somehow his inner cat wasn't quite happy with being so passive, so he finally asked Loki why he hadn't gotten involved.

"We too little. Olders won't follow anyway so no use fighting. Usually oldest lead kittens."

They'd been fighting for rank even though Blueeye had only left them for about one day?

"It true that Greypony sended bird?" Blacktoe asked before he could enquire further, though.

"Raven sent a bird back to Scotland." Rascal reported. "To say that we're staying a week longer than planned."

"Other bird." Blacktoe said. "Scotland is south. Blueeye's brother say saw bird go north."

"Are you sure he didn't just get the directions mixed up?" Rascal challenged.

"Greypony say he send bird to Mistwalker." Loki said. "Maybe he send when we hunt."

"Mistwalker?" Blacktoe repeated, awed.

"Yes, Raven wants to give him the Fire Lady's message. Greypony said he'd arrange a meeting." Rascal explained.

"But we no talk Mistwalker." Blacktoe's rival Greenlight said.

"No talk since I was baby." Blacktoe agreed. "Why send bird now?"

"Maybe bird only say Raven looking for Mistwalker." Greenlight suggested. "Mistwalker send bird say where find."

"No, say Mistwalker come here." Loki said importantly. "Have feast and talk."

Rascal completely forgot about the secret ritual over the discussion and speculations that followed. Apparently Mistwalker's visit, if he actually came, which the older kittens doubted, would be the event of the decade for White Wolf's Clan. Even Rascal got more and more excited about it.

Would he really get to meet a second clan leader?

Technically Mistwalker would actually be the third, but somehow Raven didn't count in his mind. After all Raven had no clan to go with his title. From the way the others spoke of him, though, Mistwalker's position was as real as Greypony's.

 

It was already past lunchtime when Draco realised that he was getting very hungry and Flugga's reactions to his commands were becoming more and more unwilling.

"Say when are we going to stop and eat?" he asked the others.

"When sleep." Blacktoe replied as if that were obvious.

"You mean we don't get a break?" Rascal gasped.

"Ponies tired." Greenlight complained. "Race too much."

Loki looked slightly worried at that. "Flugga very tired? She no used to run so much. She old."

Blacktoe frowned. "Why no say morning, Loki? Now too late. We stop now, must race catch up clan later. Then Flugga tired again."

Rascal slid a hand down Flugga's neck gently and the pony answered with a slight snort. He felt a little guilty for straining her so much, but how was he supposed to know that she was old and couldn't last as long as the other ponies? He didn't know anything about horses.

"I didn't mean to harm her." he told the others. "I thought we'd rest at midday and you'd stop before the ponies got too tired."

"I no know Flugga too old. I think she just lazy pony." Blacktoe defended himself. "She belong Loki's family. Loki no say."

Loki stared at the ground. "No remember Rascal not know."

"You know Rascal not know ride. Rascal not know pony. Not know how tell early when pony tired." Greenlight scolded.

"Not look that tired." Blacktoe allowed. "Can go slow. We just ride now, no race. Then better."

Rascal looked down at the furry brown and white neck in front of him and mussed up Flugga's mane a little. "Are you okay with that, girl?"

Flugga shook her head, but then she always shook her head after he'd messed up her mane. Maybe that was the pony equivalent of straightening one’s hair. It definitely wasn't an answer to his questions.

"Maybe I should get off and lead her for a bit?" he asked Loki.

"You too young to run." Loki returned.

"No need. Flugga get more tired I run. Rascal ride Frey." Blacktoe offered.

Rascal gave Blacktoe's lean brown stallion a measuring look. Would he even be able to stay on that one? That was definitely no sweet old Flugga.

"He get tired too." Loki promised. "Just excited in morning. Not buck now."

"Is fine pony." Greenlight praised. "Very fast."

"Oh splendid." Rascal said. "But will he obey me? I'm just a beginner."

"Flugga obey you." Blacktoe stated.

"Yeah, but she obeys anyone. Frey looks more picky."

"Is pony." Blacktoe declared whatever that was supposed to mean.

Rascal decided to just ride on and hope that Flugga would last longer than expected. With a little luck the clan would stop early and he'd never have to risk riding the spirited Frey.

 

"Bird!" Loki pointed at a silhouette in the darkening sky.

"Tree!" Nosestripe countered.

"That's no tree. That's a shrub at best." Rascal frowned at the pitiful plant.

"Shrug?" Nosestripe asked with a frown.

"Shrub, like shrug, but with a b." Rascal lectured. Nosestripe's English was abysmal. Some of the babies had larger vocabularies.

"Shrub!" Greenlight announced trying out the new word. He'd referred to most things as 'plant' so far.

"Fern!" Loki was enjoying the chance to show off all the words Rascal had taught him on their first ride.

They were trying to fight off boredom with what Rascal had termed the Spotting Game. As far as he could discern it had two main goals. The first was to spot things before everybody else and the second to demonstrate one's English vocabulary. Nobody appeared to be counting points, but Loki had definitely earned some respect for his demonstration of language skill.

A lot of the kittens' games seemed to be all about demonstrating skill, if he thought about it.

"Rock!"

"Trail!"

"Snow!"

"Very funny, Nosestripe."

"See snow." Nosestripe smirked at him.

"All see snow. Everywhere snow." Blacktoe sneered.

"Three bird!"

"Cat!"

The kitten's heads jerked up at that announcement. Greenlight was pointing at what looked to Rascal like only a vague silhouette. He had to have good eyes to identify the shape.

As the shape came closer it did indeed begin to look like a Catar bounding towards them even to Rascal.

"Greypony." Loki identified a little later.

They sped up a little to meet the clanmaster, but didn't force the ponies into a full out run as they usually would. Blacktoe was taking Flugga's health seriously it seemed.

Greypony on the other hand seemed to almost fly the last part of the way.

"Is something wrong?" he asked as soon as he'd transformed. Unlike Raven Grepony never transformed in the middle of another action. He always paused for a moment first. "We haven't seen you for hours. Is one of the ponies hurt?"

"No, just rest ponies." Loki answered evasively.

"Flugga got tired." Rascal admitted. "She can't seem to keep up with the younger ponies for a whole day."

"Well, that's what you get for all that irresponsible racing." Greypony didn't seem too worried about it. "How often have I told you that travelling requires a slow and steady pace? Ponies can run very fast on short distances, but they can keep walking for days if you go slowly from the start. The longer the distance gets the more likely the slow rider will arrive sooner."

That was a completely new concept to Rascal, but apparently not to the other kittens who looked very chastised. Greypony looked at each long face, took a moment to scratch Flugga's side, then transformed again and disappeared at a light trot.

Draco felt strangely lost and stranded as they rode on in silence.

 

Two hours later Rascal had to admit that they couldn't go on like this. Flugga's head had dropped below the height of what he thought were her knees and she was breathing much more loudly than normal.

There was nothing for it, he had to ride Frey.

"Uh guys? I think Flugga's really had enough. She looks completely exhausted."

Blacktoe jumped off his horse immediately. "You take Frey now?"

Rascal nodded. "I think I'll have to."

He jumped off the pony's back, not quite as elegantly as Blacktoe, but much better than his first try and secure in the knowledge that he had much better control of his claws than Blacktoe anyway.

"Pull reigns over head and give Loki." Greenlight suggested. "He know both pony best."

"Take off ... clothes?" Nosestripe asked. "Lighter."

"What?"

Nosestripe pointed at Flugga helplessly. "Clothes."

"He mean saddle." Loki realised. "Give him saddle. I no can carry saddle and lead Flugga. Need one hand for reigns."

It was a bit of an awkward manoeuvre and probably rather uncomfortable for Nosestripe's sturdy little mare to put two saddles on one pony, but they found a position Nosestripe claimed was comfortable enough and Flugga looked very relieved after a quick roll in the snow and a thorough whole body shake.

Then Rascal had to mount Frey.

Loki had promised that the stallion would be tired, too, but he didn't feel it at all. He seemed to quiver with nervous energy and started to walk before Rascal had fully righted himself in the saddle.

Rascal hastily pulled back the reigns to stop him and Frey's head came up with an angry snort. He danced to the side a little, but by then Rascal had managed to shorten the reigns to a comfortable length and find the second stirrup.

The stallion felt thinner than Flugga, too, and higher, but that had to be an illusion. He didn't look very big when standing next to the other ponies.

"Ready?" Blacktoe asked him and Rascal nodded. "Then lets go."

Blacktoe transformed with the same sudden graceless pop as Rascal. None of the kittens had Raven's fluid grace, though both Blueeye and Greenlight could manage a slow transformation when they concentrated and Nosestripe somehow managed to look natural when popping into catform.

Rascal kicked Frey to start and was forced to pull him back right away as the pony set off at a trot. The pony threw his head up and swotted his tail about even though there were no flies anywhere in sight.

"Too hard." Loki told him. "Frey not Flugga. React more."

"Not pull so much." Greenlight added. "He no like. That why throw head."

"But no let reigns hang." Loki warned. "He run off."

Draco gulped, but let the reigns slide forward a little and indeed Frey's head followed them down and the pony began to walk, though at a faster pace than Blacktoe had set for them before.

After several minutes he was able to relax a little, though he had to remain alert for any sudden sounds or movements. He wasn't sure whether Frey was indeed more nervous with an unfamiliar rider on his back, or just pretended to start, but it sure kept him on his toes.

 

Frey suddenly stopped, threw his head up and sucked in air through wide nostrils. Rascal gently nudged him with his toes. Nudging he'd found out got a better response from this horse than kicking.

Frey danced forward, but let out a huge whinny that made his whole body shake.

A reply sounded from up ahead and the ponies unanimously sped up, some even calling out themselves now.

More horse voices drifted back to them.

"Is that the clan?" Rascal asked. "Did they stop early?"

"Maybe wild ponies." Greenlight answered. "Here grass for eat. Near village wild ponies no find grass, so not live there. Here better."

Blacktoe mewed and shot off into the dusk. By the time he returned they could already see vague shapes ahead and they didn't seem quite enough for a herd of wild ponies.

Blacktoe stopped in front of them and plopped into human form. "It babies. Stop drink at river. Clan still move."

Draco sighed. He was ravenous by now and still no dinner in sight.

"Mean clan not far, though." Greenlight concluded. "Babies no take that long for drink. No go far from clan."

It wasn't even all the babies Rascal realised once the two groups of kittens joined up. He recognised Birra and the two thirteen year old boys who'd wanted to play with him on the first day as well as two others who often hung around outside Greypony's hut. Birra's friends, he assumed.

Blueeye's brother and sister were nowhere in sight, though, nor were the toddlers that were always underfoot at the village.

The later were probably too young to ride, though. He wondered how they could be transported at all for a moment, then decided that there was probably a cart for them that he just hadn't seen in the morning.

It was another half-hour before they finally caught up with the clan and Rascal realised that he'd been wrong. Every kitten from about four years up was riding and those even smaller had been lobbed in with the luggage, riding in special contraptions that were strapped tightly to the backs of the packhorses that their parents were leading along.

Raven had apparently decided to make himself useful and was dragging along a rather mutinous looking packhorse that Rascal couldn't remember seeing before.

Rascal led Frey beside them and the poor stallion almost got kicked by the unfamiliar pony.

A sharp tug on the reign reminded the pony of her manners before she could make a second attempt. Raven glared at her, then sniffed Frey curiously.

"Flugga got tired, so we decided to lead her the rest of the way." he explained. "This one's called Frey and quite a handful."

Raven wrinkled his muzzle, but with the packhorse on his hands his body language was limited and Rascal wasn't very good at interpreting it at the best of times so he decided to just ride along in silence.

Loki soon appeared at his side again, but was no longer leading Flugga along.

"Mum take her." Loki admitted. "She angry."

Rascal just hoped that didn't mean that he'd have to walk back to the village.

 

They slept under the open sky that night and Rascal was glad for his fluffy fur for the first time ever. The babies had to huddle close to their parents just to keep warm enough, but he could still see Birra shiver from time to time.

Rascal himself however was comfortable and warm lying on a blanket between Loki and Raven. Only once during the night a gust of cold air woke him as Raven got up to take over guard duty, but all he had to do was fluff up his fur a bit more and he could return to sleep.

The next morning there were some dried berries and roots for breakfast and then the kittens were off again, even most of the babies running this time.

"Festival, festival!" Birra cheered running through the snow as fast as her human feet could carry her.

Rascal was much faster, though and soon left the babies behind trying to keep up with Loki and Nosestripe. Blacktoe and Greenlight were almost out of sight in a furious race against each other and he had no idea where Blueeye and the girls were. Maybe they'd gone ahead without breakfast, or maybe they were back at the campsite helping to douse the fires and feed the ponies.

He didn't really care, though. Before him lay the festival grounds and his first Alban Arthuan and tonight he was going to participate in his first ever ritual and prove what a fine cat he was.

Loki had claimed that the festival grounds were a clearing beside a small lake surrounded by trees, but what they actually found was rather disappointing to a kitten who'd played in the great Sacred Forest. Rascal wasn't even sure whether those small things should by rights actually be referred to as trees. The kittens who lived most their lives in the Icelandic stone desert were delighted, though and immediately set to weaving little decorations from grass and twigs which they dug out from under the snow.

"This for Thor." Nosestripe announced a few minutes later proudly holding a vaguely hammer shaped construct up for inspection.

"Need stars." Birra declared still panting. "Rascal help?"

"Help?" Rascal repeated. "Help with what?"

"Stars."

"Need two to make stars." Loki explained. "One hold twigs, one weave."

And as it turned out it was rather tricky to get them to look just right. Quite often the twigs slipped out of shape once you let go of them causing the star to look uneven and ugly.

By the time the adults arrived just before sundown there were little ornaments in all the trees. Greypony surprised Rascal by calling down snow to cover the trampled ground.

"It will reflect the flames much more nicely than all those holes you dug." he explained with a wink and went to join a group of priests that were unfreezing the lake.

Raven and some others dragged a big log into the middle of the clearing while Blueeye had turned up again with a group of adults who were putting candles on the trees.

Loki pulled on Rascal's arm. "Make boats now."

"Boats?"

"For candles." Loki explained eagerly. "Big kitten must have candle boat when dark for make fire."

He didn't really understand what exactly Loki meant, but Raven had said that he was expected to light a candle when the ceremony began. Apparently he'd been wrong to assume that said candle would be on a tree.

The boats turned out to be small toy boats made from bark or pieces of wood and with a candle in the middle. The babies weren't allowed to have them and Raven and Greypony didn't make any either, but everybody else had a more or less seaworthy boat by the time the sun sank.

Expectant silence fell over the clearing as everybody watched Greypony who was busying himself with grooming Raven's fur, apparently intent on licking every last hair into exactly the right place. Some impatient mewls from the babies who had assembled by the waterside fell on deaf ears. Greypony didn't even seem to hear them.

Instead he turned around and presented his tail to Raven for grooming. Then inspected the looks of his priests licking an overlooked snowflake away here and smoothing a patch of ruffled fur there.

Blueeye to her surprise got her tail licked, but the rest of the kittens got away with a stern look.

Rascal was bouncing on his paws by the time Greypony finally deemed it dark enough and began to chant. That appeared to be the signal for everybody to turn into their human form.

The candles in the trees flared to life almost at exactly the same time and after another chant and a speech Rascal didn't understand Greypony lit the log in the middle of the clearing surrounded by all the priests.

There was another chant and then an elderly priestess walked to the water and set her boat into it. She said something too softly to hear, lit the candle and waved up a slight wind that carried it out onto the lake under the cheers of the babies. Meanwhile another priest had walked up behind her and she stepped aside to give him room.

"What are they saying?" Rascal asked Loki softly when one by one each priest repeated her actions.

Loki shrugged. "Giving private thanks to gods and making wish for new year. Boat is earth." he continued then. "Candle is fire, lake water, wind air. Elements celebrate together by dance on lake. Later we make dance more."

It was Blueeye's turn now and unlike the priests she remained at the shore when Blacktoe came up to set his boat into the water.

Rascal was getting a little nervous. He was supposed to talk to the gods? What should he say? Thank them and make a wish, Loki had said. What had the gods done for him this year, and what would be proper to ask of them? A tiny kitten couldn't just ask for some huge miracle.

There were many boats floating about now, each carrying a small dancing light that was reflected in the water alongside the lights from the trees and the stars. It was a dancing glittering carpet of light.

Nosestripe waved his boat out a little too eagerly and a strong gust threw it forward and against one of the others. Several boats bumped together and one that had already listed to the side fell over and sank. Rascal wanted to ask Loki whether that was a bad omen or something, but Loki was already walking down to the lake himself and the babies were cheering just as loudly as for all the other boats, so maybe it didn't mean anything at all.

Another tiny light blinked on and sailed out and somehow Rascal remembered how to look dignified as he walked down to the water and knelt. The water felt icy and part of him wondered at the spell that kept it open. Raven had never mentioned anything about this tradition, but then he did say that each clan had its own variations of the ceremonies and these were Northeners.

"Thank you for letting me see all this." he whispered to the boat, the lake and whoever those fabled gods were that he still didn't quite understand. "Thank you for giving me claws and Raven and letting me meet all these cats. And if it's possible, if you don't mind, and you don't think it's already too much, then please let Mistwalker come, too. Just because I want to meet as many different cats as possible, so I'll know all a cat can be."

It was, he thought as he raised his hand to light the candle, perhaps a bit much after all. He'd only meant to ask to see that one more cat, but somehow he'd ended up asking for many cats.

"Well, just as many as you see fit." he added and waved his boat away.

The babies cheered even louder this time and Birra whirled up to him excitedly.

"Make spirits dance now!" she squealed and conjured a tiny wave that splashed against the side of one of the boats rocking it a little.

For a moment he was confused, but then he noticed that the other kittens were all sending small elemental spells across the water. He concentrated and a tiny whirlwind flew out over the lake's surface stirring up the water and he imagined the tiny air spirit inside taking a tiny water spirit by the hands and whirling around and around and around.

A small flame jumped across his boat nearly setting it on fire and he felt a touch of worry for it, but then he realised these boats had been made to sink in the end. They could not sail on forever.

"What happens now after the boats sink?" he asked Loki who was conjuring fairy fires beside him.

Loki shrugged. "We go camp. Cats make new family. Lake freeze again."

"Make new ... Oh you mean the wedding ceremony." Rascal remembered. "Raven said there'd be more ceremonies."

"More than one?" Blacktoe asked.

"Yes, they talk with the Fire Lady, too." Blueeye nodded. "I heard."

"I wish we could stay and watch. Raven let me stay when he talked to her the first time." Rascal said longingly.

"That wasn't a high ritual, then." Blueeye declared.

"No, he just called for a fire spirit and the Lady came herself." Rascal admitted.

"High Rituals aren't for kittens." Blueeye stated. "Weddings are high rituals, too. Next year I'll be a priest. Then I can watch high rituals."

Rascal sighed. She'd be eighteen then and he was still only thirteen. Five long years to go.

He looked out across the lake again, but couldn't find his boat anymore. Either it had sunk or it was somewhere in the back where he couldn't make out the details of the individual boats.

There weren't that many of them left, though and the number dwindled more and more. A disappointed moan accompanied the death of the last boat almost an hour later and when Rascal turned around he found that the lights in the trees had also been extinguished. Only the big log in the center of the clearing remained.

"Take the babies back to the camp and make yourselves some dinner." Blacktoe's father ordered them handing Blacktoe a squealing toddler.

Blueeye hastened over to take a baby as well, but her mother called out to her and Rascal decided to grab one of the youngest infants away from Birra before she could drop the kitten. Blueeye would be here to help soon and he could pass it on to her then.

They walked back to the camp in human form now as they couldn't carry the babies in catform. Just before they left the clearing Rascal cast one last longing look back. The priests were standing in a circle around the burning log with only Blueeye's parents still missing as they were standing a bit to the side talking to their kitten.

They were quite a sight in their grey cloaks and with Greypony in his grey and white clanmaster's mantle. Raven looked a bit out of place in his green and silver, but seemed just as out of time. How he wished he could stay and see what they would do next.

"Rascal?" Loki asked. "You come?"

He nodded and started after the group. "Do you have any idea what they do next?"

"Fire Lady, then wedding?" It was obviously just a guess.

"Maybe we should sneak back and watch." Draco suggested.

"No." Blacktoe said firmly. "Get caught. Then Blueeye punished."

"Blueeye? Why Blueeye?"

"She oldest. She watch us."

The baby seemed to get heavier the further they went, but Blueeye still didn't come. Sounds of renewed chanting drifted up behind them and Rascal thought that that must mean that she had left the clearing, but by the time they reached the camp there still wasn't any sign of the girl.

"Think they initiate?" Greenlight asked finally.

"Look like it." Blacktoe tried to sound casual.

"What we do now?" Nosestripe asked. "Blueeye make food."

Blacktoe looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, but then took charge. "Bring food. Blueeye's brother bring big cauldron. I cook."

Loki and Rascal searched Greypony's supply pack and came up with some more berries and roots that didn't look too appetising to Draco after having eaten nothing else for the last two days, but Birra was complaining about being hungry and some of the smaller babies were actually crying. Better a boring meal that no food at all and maybe the babies weren't as tired of roots and berries as he was.

A scream rang out through the night causing Rascal to jump.

"They initiate Blueeye." Loki stated and Birra squealed with excitement.

Rascal shuddered at the memory of Raven's tales of burning ropes and scars. Maybe being only thirteen wasn't so bad after all.

Blacktoe turned out to be a bad cook. He turned their dinner into unrecognisable goo which had the single advantage that even the smallest babies could eat it without requiring somebody else to chew it for them first, a custom Draco found thoroughly disgusting.

"That Fire Lady call now." Greenlight said when a new chant began.

Birra squeezed into the small gap between Rascal and Loki.

"Cold." she complained. "Turn cat."

"How much longer?" Rascal asked and tried to ignore Blueeye's brother cuddling up to his other side. It had to be after midnight by now.

"Only wedding." Blacktoe said. "Need clean up before can sleep."

So they all got up to wash their dishes with snow and return them to the packs. Blueeye's little siblings dragged their big family cauldron back to their fire site, but returned to the single fire that Blacktoe had lit after their return to the camp afterwards.

"That wedding now?" Birra asked when they all huddled around the fire trying to arrange themselves so the babies would get the most warmth.

"No still Fire Lady." Loki answered. "Wedding is lighter, higher chant."

"Turn catform now." Blacktoe ordered. "Sleep."

They popped into their other forms obediently, but that meant that most of them turned smaller. Rascal soon realised that he was in no way able to replace a parent's big warm form for one baby, let alone two.

The little ones whimpered and huddled close to the bigger kittens as much as possible.

Rascal closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but Birra's shivering and the eerie chants in the distance kept him awake and wondering.

After a short period of silence a new chant started, but it didn't sound anything like he'd imagined the wedding chant after Loki's description. This one started out low and ominous and there appeared to be only three or four different voices singing the others cutting in only from time to time. Then the melody picked up pace, haunting and strangely hypnotic.

Rascal transformed. "Is that still part of the Fire Lady's ritual?"

"No, not think so." Blacktoe's voice came out muffled because of the baby that had her arms slung around his neck. "Never hear that one before."

"Blacktoe never hear Fire Lady ritual either." Loki said in an attempt to be encouraging, but his voice shook. He too felt spooked.

"It no summoning." Blacktoe insisted. "Hear many summoning before.

"Like priest song." Nosestripe said. "But scary. Sing of big secret."

"You sure?" Blacktoe asked.

"Feeling." Nosestripe shrugged.

"Nosestripe strong magic sense." Loki added. "He usually right."

"But what does it mean?" Rascal asked. "What big secret could the adults have and who would they tell?"

"Not know." Nosestripe whimpered. "Feeling."

"Ask Raven or Greypony." Greenlight said. "They high priests and clanmasters. They know every chant."

There was another scream then and this time everybody jumped. They set huddled together in complete silence, but the night remained silent for a long time before finally a new song started up.

"That wedding now." Loki said and indeed it was a light and happy melody which was probably meant to wish the new couple luck and many kittens.


	14. Chapter 13: Mistwalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Sorry, work went absolutely mad and I couldn’t find time or energy to write for a while. Then I noticed I’d completely lost the thread for this story. You’ll probably notice where it cut off in this chapter and I’m not sure I managed to get back into it. I know where I meant to go next, but no longer how I was going to get there.

Chapter 13: Mistwalker

 

Raven was in a self absorbed, grumpy mood the next morning and Rascal decided to keep out of the way and stick with the kittens as much as possible. When Loki seemed more inclined to draw out breakfast and hang around Greypony he decided to go search for some playmates on his own.

Nosestripe was nowhere to be seen, but he recognised the shapes of Blacktoe and Greenlight at the outer rim of the camp where they'd put the horses.

At first he assumed that they were feeding the ponies, but when he got closer he realised that they were just sitting there watching Blueeye clumsily groom her pony.

"Morning!" he called out to the group. He was too curious to see what was going on to wonder whether he was interrupting anything important.

"Hi Rascal." Blueeye smiled at him, but it looked more brave than happy.

"Blueeye big adult priest now." Greenlight said excitedly. "Show Rascal."

And Blueeye proudly pulled back her cloak to reveal the ugly red burns on her bare arms.

Rascal leaned forward and sniffed them cautiously.

"Doesn't that hurt?" he asked the girl, no woman. By the law of the clan she was a young woman now.

"A lot." Blueeye admitted. "But it is an honour. I am a priest now. I can speak in the council. I can do magic. I can summon spirits."

"Couldn't you do that before as well?" She couldn't have learned that much magic in one night, right?"

"Need ask permission." Greenlight explained. "Priest decide when do magic. Kitten need ask."

"Want be priest too." Blacktoe pouted. "Pretty scars."

"Pretty?" Rascal repeated incredulously. "They look all red and painful. I'm glad I'm too young to be initiated."

"Baby." Blacktoe sneered.

"Rascal know better." Greenlight insisted. "We just kittens. No good initiate without learn first."

"Chrss!" Blacktoe hissed at Greenlight.

"Chrss!" Greenlight hissed back unsheathing his claws.

"Me-chrss!" All of a sudden Blueeye looked every bit the adult she was supposed to be.

The two kittens jumped back startled, but continued to glare at each other as they helped Blueeye with her pony.

A little while later Birra arrived and took over insisting that she could ready the pony herself. "I ride." she declared proudly. "I brush."

"I ride Greypony's stallion." Loki informed them excitedly. "Flugga packhorse today."

Rascal froze. "You mean I have to ride your pony?"

"Yes." Loki nodded eagerly. "Is mare. Not problem."

Rascal doubted that. Loki's mischievous red mare might not be as spirited as Blacktoe's Frey, but she was a lot trickier. She had a tendency to sneak up on you while you groomed or saddled her and bite, she kicked and she jumped to the side every time Loki mounted her. Loki didn't seem to mind, but Rascal thought her a very troublesome pony.

"That good." Blacktoe declared unfortunately. "You young pony, we can race. No get tired."

"No be last always." Loki promised. "Is fast pony."

"I'd rather have Flugga." Draco pouted. "I'm used to her. Riding Frey felt all strange and wrong."

"Flugga old. No can race." Loki insisted.

"You want to make Flugga sick?" Blueeye asked. "If you like her, you should ride another pony."

"Or stay with babies." Greenlight challenged. "Babies no race. Flugga no sick."

Rascal sighed. "Okay, okay, I'll try your monster. But don't complain, if I hit her when she bites me."

"Hit right on nose." Greenlight recommended pointing at the spot right between his pony's nostrils. "Is soft spot. She feel."

"You want me to abuse her?" Rascal gasped.

"It not abuse." Blacktoe said. "It like bite her. She bite other pony, other pony bite her. She bite you, you bite her. Is pony language for: 'You no bite me.'"

"No bite hard." Loki pouted. "Is good pony."

"Bite hard." Nosestripe countered. "Make me bleed."

"That long ago." Loki countered. "No bite hard now."

Rascal still decided to take Greenlight's advice and slapped the little mare the first time she nipped him. She was so startled that he could finish saddling her in peace, but got her revenge by bucking him off when he tried to mount her.

Greypony had a good laugh at the glaring kitten lying in the snow with a smug looking pony standing over him, but helped Rascal back to his feet and held the pony for his second attempt. This time he managed to stay on, though he decided that he didn't like this horse at all.

 

"Your father angry with you?" Greenlight asked Rascal once they were on their way. "He no watch us ride off."

"What?" Rascal asked not getting what he meant.

"Raven not Rascal's father." Loki explained. "Is something ... uncle, I think."

"He's my teacher." Rascal corrected. "And an old friend of my father's. Father's only a wizard not a cat, so he asked Raven to teach me."

"Your father not cat!" Nosestripe gasped.

"They do that in south clans." Greenlight nodded eagerly. "Cat marry wizard, have cat kittens. It good for no marry cousin too much. No have many cats left. Templers kill too many."

"Kill cats?" Nosestripe squeaked. "Why kill?"

"Templers bad." said Blacktoe. "Have evil god. Evil god say kill cats."

Nosestripe shivered. "No want go England. No want Templars."

"I want go England." Loki threw in. "Want see wizards in big castle."

"But Templars there." Greenlight warned. "They see you cat, they kill you. No want go England either."

"That's okay." Rascal told them. "You don't have to. You just stay in Iceland. They don't seem to have any Templars here."

"Have Templar." Loki corrected. "But only one. He in Reykjavik. We no go there, we safe."

"What does he do there?" Rascal asked surprised. Why would there be only one solitary Templar?

"Not know." Loki admitted. "Something with wizards and Muggle god. Templars no like Iceland. No like gods. Gods strong here."

"So Raven angry?" Greenlight asked again. "What you do?"

"Not angry. Just hurt." Loki said.

"Hurt?" Rascal asked. "What's wrong with him?"

"You no know?" Loki grinned proudly. "Initiate Raven too."

"What? As a White Wolf?" Rascal gasped.

"No, high priest. He high priest, but no high priest initiate him. So Greypony do. Now lick Raven all morning." Loki giggled. "Like apologise."

"That secret chant?" Nosestripe asked. "Big secrets?"

"Must be." Greenlight nodded. "That why never hear. Not many high priests."

"But why did they do that?" Rascal wondered. "It's not like Raven needs the scars to be master of a dead clan."

"Scars for prove Raven high priest." Blacktoe said as if it were obvious.

"But we know that. Who would he have to prove anything to? There isn't even a clan left for him to lead."

"Mistwalker." said Greenlight. "Scars for show cats from other clans. Always been for that. No for own clan. Own clan know its cats."

"We race to rock now." Blacktoe pointed into the distance. "Frey want run."

And before Draco could come up with an excuse the others took off. Loki's little mare bucked and chased after them without needing any encouragement. Rascal clung to the saddle and cursed the red misfit under his breath. He almost wished for temperamental, but obedient Frey back.

 

Raven continued to be unapproachable for the next two days, but Rascal didn't mind all that much. He spent his time playing, riding and hunting with the other kittens or watching the priests go about their daily routines. The native kittens might find the cooking rituals and routine repairs on the huts boring, but to Rascal they were still new and exciting and he was extremely proud whenever he was allowed to help.

And then one afternoon three cats strode into the camp in a strict V-formation. In the lead was a thin grey tabby with unusually short fur for the region.

The kittens raced to the central square mewling excitedly, but stopped on the sides when the tabby looked at them with haughty disdain.

"Mistwalker." an excited whisper drifted through the crowd, probably coming from one of the older priests as the younger cats had no idea what the fabled clanmaster looked like.

The three strangers stopped in the middle of the square, Mistwalker in the lead and the other two exactly one body length behind him, all still in cat-form.

There was a moment of tense silence before Greypony and Raven appeared. Side by side, their shoulders almost touching, they trotted up to the three strangers.

Mistwalker regarded Raven with a disgusted frown and when the panther stretched his head forward to sniff the tabby almost simultaneous warning hisses sounded from the two other strangers. Raven froze and retreated a step staring at his left front leg in embarrassment.

Greypony glared at Mistwalker and for just a moment Rascal wondered whether the grey was irascible enough to abort the eagerly awaited reconciliation of the clans by kicking out Mistwalker's entourage on accusations of grave misconduct.

Instead of attacking however, Greypony then proceeded to ignore the newcomers entirely. He poked Raven's cheek with his nose, a rather intimate gesture that looked almost like a kiss to Draco's human raised mind, but was probably an invitation to a head rub.

Raven ducked his head, lifted his leg and gestured towards the spot where his dark mark was hidden under the fur.

"Mrr?" made Greypony, bent his head and licked the indicated spot.

As if he hoped to wash off the dark mark!

Raven stared at him in complete surprise. Even Rascal had never attempted to lick that part of him. Everybody instinctively avoided the concentrated dark magic it exuded.

 

Mistwalker watched the scene unfold with wide eyes. He had no idea how to react to the interruption of protocol. The demonstrative ignoring of his presence was a deliberate insult, but then it appeared to be in retaliation for his guards' objections to the black cat's greeting, so perhaps his side had broken protocol first and was expected to offer an apology.

It might have helped if he'd had the faintest idea who the black was in the first place. The grey he recognised as Greypony, who'd been very respected among the White Wolf's Clan even before the falling out. He'd never known him well, but they had sniffed noses on one or two occasions.

He also remembered a few of the faces in the crowd, other well respected priests. He'd expected two of them to function as Greypony's entourage in this encounter as was customary in a meeting of two clanmasters.

What he didn't remember was a perfect black in White Wolf's Clan, not even a predominantly black. It was a rare colouring that he was sure he would remember, especially since White Wolf's Clan was well known for producing almost exclusively greys.

The stranger had the aura of a high priest and stank strongly of dark magic, which was probably what had upset his guards. It was a revolting feeling to be this close to a tainted cat, but Mistwalker hadn't been about to refuse a polite greeting. Greypony had chosen to bring the second high priest out like an equal and even ceded him the right of first greeting.

Now that he thought about it, Greypony had probably meant this demonstration of respect towards the black as a signal that he was trustworthy despite his taint and that he expected him to be treated as politely as any other member of his clan.

If so, this meeting had really started on the wrong paw.

He inched forward a little to get a closer look at what the two were doing.

Fur licking? And Greypony's whiskers were hanging down rather contritely. Was Greypony apologising for his guards' behaviour?

That couldn't be tolerated. His clan's behaviour was still his business and not Greypony's.

With a deliberate effort he shoved his disgust aside and stuck his head forward until he almost touched the black's nose. Sniff.

Yellow eyes regarded him with deep mistrust. Just great.

Then the pitch black muzzle came forward and their noses did touch. Mistwalker risked a very little head rub, then quickly turned to Greypony.

Sniff, rub. Apparently the grey didn't want to allow any further greeting than he'd granted the black. Wonderful, he really was offended. Just when they'd made the first step towards mending fences.

It took a very stern glare to bring his guards forward to offer their own greetings. Both restricted themselves to sniffing the black's nose and in turn weren't allowed anything more than that by the grey either. Just barely civil. Mistwalker's whiskers drooped disappointedly.

Their hosts exchanged a long look, then turned in perfect unison and led them towards one of the huts, Greypony's Mistwalker assumed. One after the other all five of them slipped through the door. Maybe things would improve in a more private setting.

Inside they stood facing each other once again. Greypony and the black shoulder to shoulder and still clearly disgruntled.

Mistwalker decided to make a peace offering. He lowered his head in respect towards his hosts and transformed as elegantly as he could. Beside him his companions plopped into human shape with slightly less grace, but elegantly enough, he thought.

Or at least he thought so until the black melted into his other shape as if it were no effort at all. Shabby kittens that couldn't do it without a sudden pop his casual glance seemed to say.

At least Greypony was no more elegant than he himself had been.

"Welcome, Lord Mistwalker." Greypony greeted him. "Please allow me to introduce Lord Raven, Master of the Sacred Forest Clan. Raven, Lord Mistwalker leads the Shorecats, our northern neighbours."

"Sacred Forest?" he couldn't place the name, but Raven's ceremonial cloak was of an ancient style that was only found among the really old clans. Green with silver embroidery. Had he ever heard of that colour scheme?

"They could be considered our closest neighbours to the south, I suppose." Greypony explained. "The northernmost clan in Scotland."

Scotland! By all the gods and elements! While he was just barely keeping in owl contact with a few fellow northener clans Greypony had forged contacts with the southeners. And when Greypony had kindly offered to give him a chance to share in that achievement he'd snubbed a high dignitary who probably hadn't been easy to convince to make such a far trip away form his clan in the first place.

The countries in the south were dangerous places where cats had to tread cautiously in order to survive. Raven was risking everything leaving his home even for a short time. It couldn't have been an easy choice.

He bowed to the cat hoping to make amends, but received only a cold glare in return.

"It was in fact his idea to invite you here today." Greypony continued eyes glittering with ... amusement? ... Mistwalker wasn't sure. He didn't know Greypony well enough to read his expressions.

He had heard little about him and what he had was contradictory. An impressive priest of impeccable character they said, but then again called him easy going and even playful. Powerful in any case. That much he couldn't doubt.

He didn't want to get on this one's bad side. He wouldn't be an easy opponent in a fight. The other one, on the other hand ...

Greypony would be tough to beat, against Raven he wasn't sure he'd stand a chance. Both of them at once was out of the question. He didn't even consider the current advantage in numbers. He and his companions were hunters, not fighters. They could fight, oh yes, even had a little experience. Raven however carried himself like a fighter. A fighter who could probably hunt, but that was besides the point.

"I have come here with a message from the Fire Lady." Raven stated while checking his claws.

A declaration that he didn't expect a fight as much as a demonstration of disrespect. Raven clearly didn't think very highly of the Shorecats, though Mistwalker hoped that this might be due to a general dislike of northerners. The old argument that had split the clans had probably left a lot of resentment on both sides and if Raven was only here out of respect to the Fire Lady it was no wonder that he was disgruntled at being snubbed.

Mistwalker bowed deeply. "My respect to the Lady as well as her messenger, then. I thank you for your efforts."

Raven shot him a glare. "I am not doing this for you. I am here out of respect for the Lady and out of concern for the well-being of our whole race."

"The well-being of our race?" Silverpaw gasped.

A break of protocol as the guard hadn't even been introduced, but Raven turned to him anyway.

"The Fire Lady is very concerned about the dwindling number of Catar calling on her and her people. She has sent me to ask you to call in and confirm your continued survival." Raven stated. "Besides that I would be grateful, if you could pass the message on to any other clans or strays you might be in contact with."

"We are also hoping to re-establish communication between all the clans." Greypony threw in. "It should be possible to pass such messages quickly, or send out a call for aid, if faced with an emergency situation. The number of clans has thinned out too much. With only two clans left in this country and most likely similar situations elsewhere we ought to start operating on a wider scale."

Mistwalker opened his mouth to answer ... and closed it again.

"A high council across the borders of northern and southern clans?" he asked finally. "Do you realise what you're proposing?"

"We are proposing nothing of the sort." Raven stepped in. "My mission requires me to contact as many clans as possible. We merely suggest to take a census at the same time, find out how many clans are left and where they are. Setting up new high councils sounds like a worthwhile idea for discussion, but at the moment we are talking of communication lines only."

"A meeting for such a discussion does sound like a good idea." Greypony amended. "Not several permanent councils, but one meeting of all the clans we can reach."

"On the old council grounds?" Mistwalker was doubtful. "The sudden influx of that many travellers to this region will be noticed."

"This is my clan's home now." Greypony said. "It might be acceptable for you and me to meet in each other's huts, but I doubt the foreign clans would like the idea. Neutral ground would be preferable."

"It should be a place that allows for privacy, but can be visited by a large number of people without attracting attention." Mistwalker declared.

"And have equal significance to all clans." Greypony added.

"Stonehenge." said Raven.

"Stonehenge?" Mistwalker repeated incredulously. "A southener council seat?"

"It has a long tradition." Raven explained stretching his claws. "Much older than the division between northeners and southeners. It was one of the oldest council seats, but is now completely abandoned and that is known to the Templars. I know for a fact that they aren't watching the place. It is also a Muggle tourist attraction, so nobody will be surprised to see a large number of strangers in the vicinity. Privacy would be the biggest issue, but I suggest we meet at night and under Muggle protection charms."

"You will be able to arrange that?" Mistwalker asked.

"If we time it right so I can arrive a few days early without rousing suspicion at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts." Greypony confirmed not giving any further explanations. "When can you next get away from the wizards?"

"The Easter holidays." Raven replied. "That will be too early, though. I need time to actually look for the clans and my leads to the southern clans are vague at this time."

"I am in occasional contact with clans in Norway and Finland." Mistwalker volunteered. "I can contact them, forward messages to Greypony. Perhaps we can reach the rest of the northerner clans by bird."

"I doubt they will be willing to risk the trip without having actually met us." Raven said. "But I can get away for a weekend from time to time and perhaps they would be willing to visit one of you. You will make a more trustworthy impression on them in any case."

"I'm going south." Greypony burst out suddenly.

"What?" Raven stared at him. Clearly this hadn't been pre-arranged.

"It's the obvious solution, don't you see?" Greypony said eagerly. "You are tied down at Hogwarts and Mistwalker needs to stay close to his contacts, if he wants to relay messages. I can move about freely, though. So I'll follow up your vague lead, find that mysterious clan and hopefully get other leads from them."

"And where should I send my messages then?" Mistwalker demanded. "I can't organise everything myself."

"Of course not." Greypony sneered. "Your job is to find he Northeners, I'll find the Southeners and Raven remains at Hogwarts giving us a permanent base where everything runs together. We're merely his agents."

This was huge. This was breathtaking. Mistwalker felt very excited and nervous all of a sudden.

Raven stretched his left arm and claws as if he didn't have a care in the world. "You're sure you can leave your clan for such a long time?"

Greypony nodded. "This place is quite safe and there are enough capable leaders in the clan. Our success or failure will have a decisive impact on the future of our race. I'm willing to do anything I can."

"Very well, then." Raven agreed. "In that case we might be able to have our meeting in the summer holidays already. I refuse to set a date before we have made contact with a sufficient number of clans, though. This might still turn out to be harder than we expect."

 

There was a huge celebration that evening both as a welcoming feast to Mistwalker and as a good bye to Raven, Rascal and Greypony who would leave for Scotland the next morning. Rascal enjoyed himself immensely. He, Greenlight, Blacktoe and Nosestripe chased each other between the fireplaces, tasted each and every dish served, wrestled, played, danced and sang deep into the night.

Loki however spent almost the entire time at near the fire outside Geypony's hut mewling plaintively at his parents. Rascal didn't know what to think of his friend's kittenish behaviour. He was a little disappointed that they didn't spend his last day in Iceland together, but there was too much else going on to waste this time on moping. So he went to say good bye to Loki early the next morning while Raven and Greypony were finishing their packing.

"Why say good bye?" Loki laughed at him. "I come with you."

"You're going to the continent with Greypony?" Rascal gasped. "But isn't that much too dangerous?" That was what Greypony had said yesterday afternoon when the kittens had first learned of the plan.

"Not continent." Loki shook his head. "I go Hogwarts with you. If you can play wizard, I can, too."

"But there's a Templar there and you'll have to go to Mass." Rascal argued. "And you can never show your claws, or purr or meow. And you need a wand."

"Have wand. Buy wand in Reykjavik." Loki said. "Put on your robe then look like real little wizard."

Indeed most of the older clan members owned wands and knew the most important wand spells. It allowed them to visit the Icelandic wizarding communities without attracting attention.

"We'll just say Loki has been home schooled until now and isn't very talented." Raven explained on the way to the floo station. "Maybe his training has been sketchy. As for Religion, well, his English is too bad to understand and answer the Templar and he doesn't know Latin. His mother isn't that well educated and has taught him only in Icelandic."

"And what if he tells him to recite a prayer in Icelandic?" Rascal worried.

Loki stared at him wide-eyed. He hadn't thought of that.

"Then recite a poem. Anything that doesn't mention any names of gods." Raven suggested. "I assure you, he won't understand a thing. Very few people in Scotland know any Icelandic."

Rascal had to concede that fact. He'd rarely if ever heard a more foreign sounding language. It seemed to have nothing at all in common with English. Even the letters were weird.

There was a short discussion over Loki's human name while they waited for their connection to Aberdeen. Loki wanted nothing more to do with it, insisting that it was for babies, while Raven declared categorically that using his cat name would get them all killed.

"How about Loki Grey, then?" Greypony suggested a compromise. "I think we can convince them that Loki is indeed an Icelandic first name."

"That's better." Loki decided. "They will call me Loki then, won't they?"

"Except for most teachers." Draco nodded. "They'll call you Mr. Grey."

"And you have to remember to always call Rascal Draco." Greypony reminded him.

Loki frowned.

"That's a good name for a cat." Greypony assured him. "It means dragon."

"But he's Rascal. They should call him Rascal." Loki declared.

Soon after that they stepped into the fireplace one by one and were whisked to Aberdeen where they tumbled out of another one of the huge international floos that Rascal had already seen on his way to Iceland. This time they were in the arrivals section, though and didn't have to wait in line.

They walked past the line of outgoing wizards and witches, but it was much shorter than it had been at the beginning of the holidays. Only then did Draco fully realise that the holidays were already over and his human friends were in class right now. Tuesday, beginning of third lesson, Flying with Gryffindor. Then they'd have DADA and would they be back in time for Raven to hold their Potions lesson?

There was a rare mischievous smirk on Raven's face as he stepped into the national floo.

"Hogwarts, headmaster's office!" he announced.

Loki immediately followed his example. Rascal would have much preferred to use the Slytherin fireplace, but he couldn't desert Loki, so he too flooed to the headmaster's office.

 

Albus Dumbledore looked up in surprise at the sudden rushing sound from his fireplace.

"Severus! Welcome back! Did you have a nice trip?" he beamed at his Potions Master who looked surprisingly relaxed.

Clearly the holiday had done him good. He should let Severus get out more often, Albus thought, allow him to enjoy himself from time to time.

"Hello Albus." Severus said sounding slightly distracted.

There was another rushing sound and out of the fire came ... a blond teenager that Albus was quite sure wasn't Draco Malfoy.

"Um ... Good afternoon?" the boy said with a strong accent.

"Headmaster, meet Mr Loki Grey." Severus introduced. "Loki, this is our headmaster. You are to address him as Professor Dumbledore."

Before Albus could ask what all this was about Draco Malfoy arrived, followed by a strange wizard in a light grey cloak.

"Mr. Grey is a friend of mine." Severus explained once Albus had managed to force a cup of tea and a chair on each of them. "He'll be travelling a lot this year and I have offered to watch his son in the meantime."

"Ah," Albus beamed at the boy. "Then we'll have to sort you."

"I think, Loki would prefer to remain with Draco." Severus interrupted. "He doesn't understand English very well and would probably find it too hard to keep up with his own year, so I believe it will be better for him, to start a year below his age level."

"He has passed third year at his school, though?" Albus asked.

"He's never gone to school before." Mr. Grey threw in. "There is no magical boarding school in Iceland and we live rather isolated in the country. My wife has been teaching him at home, but he has had little chance to spend time with children of his own age, so we are quite happy of his friendship with Draco. That is the main reason we decided to send him here, you see."

Albus nodded. "I understand. It will probably set back his education, though."

"Magical education isn't that important for us." Mr. Grey smiled charmingly at Albus. "He will inherit my farm someday, Professor. He doesn't need a Master's degree."

Albus looked from Severus to Mr. Grey, to the two nervous boys in surprise. Severus making friends with a simple farmer? He usually preferred more intellectually inclined people. What Lucius Malfoy's opinion of his son's new friend would be he didn't even want to think about. Hopefully that wouldn't become his problem.

"Alright, if that is your wish, I won't stand in your way." he said. "And I'm sure Loki will make a lot of other new friends here as well."

 

"Sorry, Professor Lupin." Draco said as they walked into DADA class about ten minutes late. "We were talking to the headmaster."

"Mr. Malfoy." Lupin nodded at him. "I wasn't even expecting you. I thought you'd be arriving tomorrow."

Draco shrugged. "I suppose we got a floo connection faster than we originally expected. We didn't think we'd be back in time to attend class, but here we are."

"Excuse me, but I don't think I've seen you before." Lupin had noticed Loki. "Are you a new student?"

"I'm Loki." Loki nodded eagerly.

"His full name's Loki Grey." Draco explained hastily. "His first language is Icelandic, so he might not understand everything you say."

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Grey." Lupin smiled. "Now, if you two could please sit down. We were in the middle of a very interesting discussion. Miss Abbot asked why cobolds are classified as dark creatures, when goblins are not."

"Maybe because goblins aren't as dangerous as cobolds?" Draco guessed.

"Goblins more dangerous." said Loki. "Stronger and claws longer. But more intelligent, too."

"No, they're not more dangerous." Theodore contradicted. "They're much less likely to attack a wizard."

"And why is that?" Professor Lupin asked the class. "I think Mr. Grey already gave us a good hint."

Draco looked at Loki in surprise.

"Cobolds too stupid." Loki tried again. "Not understand not attack people."

"Of course!" Blaise groaned. "Cobolds are classified as creatures while goblins are beings. They can't be defined as dark, because they can make a rational choice between right or wrong."

"And being rational beings they don't normally attack people." Professor Lupin agreed. "Correct Mr. Zabini. Five points to Slytherin."

"Loki knew it first." Draco protested. "He just doesn't know words like creature and being."

"Well, consider them five shared points for Slytherin, then." Professor Lupin smiled.

He was a rather nice teacher all in all. Rascal didn't understand why he felt so nervous around him. Perhaps it was the feeling of dark magic that surrounded him, but then Raven had darkness in his aura as well and it didn't bother him at all.

Of course he knew where Raven's darkness came from, while Lupin definitely didn't wear a dark mark. But Lupin was a DADA teacher. He had to have a lot of experience finding and deactivating dark spells. Wasn't it natural that those would rub off on his aura after a while?

Loki turned out to be quite good at DADA, at least as long as it remained theoretical. It took him a little longer than Draco to master the little spell they learned at the end of the lesson, but then Lupin probably attributed that to Loki not understanding the instructions correctly rather than his inexperience in handling his wand.

 

"I hope we have Dumbledore again." Neville told his friends on the way from Charms to Potions. "Trellawney was boring."

"Not to mention that she kept predicting my death." Harry agreed. "Dumbledore was fun."

"But he made us work." Ron complained. "That potion was difficult."

"Difficult?" Neville stared at Ron. "Even I could have brewed it blindfolded."

"I wish Professor Snape would come back soon." Hermione sighed. "We're not learning anything in Potions without him."

"We brewed a Potion with Dumbledore." Harry pointed out.

"One that we already learned in first year." Hermione countered. "I really don't know how Ron managed to mess it up. I could have brewed it by heart."

"I couldn't." Harry admitted. "Not by heart."

"But with the recipe on the blackboard it was too easy." Neville agreed with Hermione. He could have at least given us something from this year."

"Hey Ron, is it true that Fred and George walked out of their last Potions class and declared they won't comeback until Snape does?" Lavender Brown threw in. "I mean, are those two crazy, or what?"

Ron nodded unhappily. "Its an excuse for skipping, I suppose."

"Nonsense." Neville snorted. "Potions is the twins' favourite class, Lavender. I heard Professor Snape was giving them special projects to further their interest. They must be bored to death with all those amateur replacement teachers."

"It's their OWL year." Hermione said. "And they are ambitious about their Potions grade. It's the most important subject for their career plans. I bet they just thought they can prepare themselves better by reading up on OWL level potions, rather than repeating first year work."

"That's what you think, Hermione." Ron glared at her. "Fred and George don't give a damn about their OWLs. They're probably trying to break their detention record from last year. That's all. I at least am looking forward to another hour of Trellawney. I'm glad Snape's gone." he said throwing open the door to the Potions classroom.

"Well, Mr. Weasley," Professor Snape said with a malicious gleam in his eyes. "In that case, I'm afraid, your luck just ran out."

Ron's eyes widened in horror and he froze in the door.

"Hey, what's the hold up?" Seamus' voice rang out from somewhere behind them. "Come on. I need to wash out my cauldron before class."

"Move, Ron." Hermione tried to push him into the classroom. "We want to get in."

"Oh fuck!" Ron groaned and remained where he was.

"Ten points off Gryffmdor for using foul language and hindering your fellow students' preparations for class." Snape announced almost gleefully.

Hermione squeezed past Ron, followed by Harry. The slightly chubby Neville found it a little harder to get through, but then Seamus and Dean managed to push Ron into the room and the students finally flooded into the classroom.

"Miss Parkinson, what was your last homework assignment?" Snape demanded clearly not impressed by the fact that the class hadn't officially begun yet."

"Two feet on Sherman's tincture, Sir." pug-nosed Pansy Parkinson replied truthfully.

Neville suppressed a sigh. He'd been quite content with his essay after he'd written it, but if Snape was going to grade it, it was probably going to end up a miserable T.

"Sherman's tincture?" Snape frowned at them. "I see you have been slacking off in my absence. Well, we'll just have to speed up our work a little to catch up. Take your seat Weasley, or need I remind you that you are the student least likely to be able to keep up?"

Malfoy was back, too, Neville noticed, and he was wearing Muggle clothes!

There was a second student in jeans and a pullover as well, but Neville had never seen the boy before.

"Apparently his name's Loki Grey." he heard Estella Rushton whisper to Parvati when they went to get ingredients from Snape's stores. "He's from Iceland. Knew a whole lot about cobolds and goblins in DADA."

"He's so cute." Parvati gushed. "And tall."

"I heard he's already fourteen." Millicent Bullstrode cut in. "They made him repeat, because of his bad English. Didn't think he'd be able to keep up."

Loki was a cool name, Neville thought. He wished he'd been named after an old god. He'd even settle for something Greek or Roman, like Professor McGonagall. Neville was such a boring name.

He wondered whether Loki's family was of the old religion as well. Great Uncle AIgie had suggested that the surviving Catar might have fled to Iceland once. Apparently it was a liberal country that was tolerant of other people's beliefs. He wished he'd been born in Iceland.

"Why aren't Malfoy and the new guy in uniform?" Ron demanded suddenly. "Aren't you going to take any points off them, Professor?"

"Because they only just arrived and preferred not to waste any valuable class time on changing." Snape glared at Ron. "Not everybody is as lazy as you, Weasley."

Ron pouted and went back to mashing the roots he was supposed to slice. That was going to cost them even more points, Neville predicted while carefully measuring out two teaspoons of powdered unicorn horn. Then he'd be angry at Snape again and accuse him of some weird plot, probably something that included Draco and Loki and their Muggle clothes as well. It'd get him in trouble and then they'd lose even more points and ...

"Ha-tschu!" He should have concentrated on not sneezing! "Oh no!"

"Longbottom!" Snape shouted.

"I'm sorry, Sir." he said meekly.

"Just clean up your mess."

Neville started to brush the spilled unicorn horn into his hand, but another violent sneeze overcame him and it was all blown away again, spreading even further on and around his desk.

"Why didn't you go to the hospital wing for pepper up potion, if you have a cold?" Snape demanded angrily.

"I don't have a cold." Neville tried to explain. "At least I didn't before I got here."

"Hm ..." Snape came closer and peered right into his eyes.

Neville tried not to shake too much.

"Do you have any allergies, Longbottom?"

"I ... I don't think so."

"Perhaps you should have Madame Pomfrey test that." Snape suggested. "Go wash your hands and tie a piece of cloth over your mouth and nose. Miss Granger, clean up the spilled unicorn horn. Thoroughly! I don't have any anti-allergy potion on hand at the moment, so any powder you overlook could cause Mr. Longbottom to have another sneezing fit."

Neville sighed. An allergy? As if he needed any more problems in Potions.

But hadn't they worked with unicorn horn before? He was sure he'd never had an allergic reaction until now, so maybe he did have a cold after all. It might have only just started. Nevertheless he spent the rest of the lesson avoiding the powdered unicorn horn as best he could.


	15. Chapter 14: Crocodiles, a Yeti and Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Apologies for this chapter. It’s patchwork. I experimented with various alternatives to my old writing habits here, usually ending up writing without having the rest of the chapter on hand so what I produced are several separate chunks of story that just ended wherever I ran out of writing time.

Chapter 14: Crocodiles, a Yeti and Cats

 

As soon as Potions was over the Slytherins crowded around Loki bombarding him with questions. Pansy frowned and sneered at him when she found out that he was just a farm-kid from the country, but the others were friendly enough, even if they made the kitten a little nervous.

It wasn't that he had a problem with being surrounded by that many people. Kitten-wrestling could get a lot more crowded than this, but these weren't kittens.

He couldn't, wasn't allowed to, forget for one moment that these were human children, wizards, and he was supposed to pretend that he was just like them.

At least they were easily distracted from dangerous topics. He told them that he had a little sister and they wondered about the name Birra, so he told them some more Icelandic names.

Then they wanted to hear him talk Icelandic and they got all wide-eyed and excited when he told them that he had his own pony at home. Horse tales were good, because they were safe. There wasn't much that was Catar specific about the things he did with his pony.

"Riding is great." Rascal cut into the conversation in an attempt to save him. "And we had so much fun horse-racing."

"Racing, really?" a tall, slightly fat boy who'd been almost completely silent so far cut in. "Did you win?"

"No, I had to borrow an old horse that didn't run very fast." Rascal shrugged. "She always lost."

"How's that fun then?" the wizard boy said.

"Well, it's fast and wild and the wind rushes past you." Rascal tried to explain. "Like flying, actually."

"Do you play Quidditch?" another boy asked Loki.

Loki shook his head. "No, we not play that.”

“Loki doesn't even have a broom." Rascal added. “Icelandic wizards don't fly much. Maybe because it's so cold."

"What cold have to do with it?" Loki asked surprised.

"Because up in the air with the wind rushing past you it's a lot colder than on the ground." explained one of the girls. "Your fingers and toes can get frozen flying on a cold day."

“And you can't wear warm gloves, because your hands would slip on the handle." this boy clearly spoke from experience. "And your face stings from the cold. Flying in winter really sucks."

"See, that must be why they don't do it. It's almost always winter in Iceland." Rascal declared.

"Is not." Loki protested. "It only winter in winter.''

That didn't impress the young wizards much, though.

 

Mr. Grey left them the very next morning after breakfast and without having explained to Albus what exactly it was he was travelling to the continent for. In fact, now that Albus thought about it, he hadn't even mentioned what country he was going to. Severus probably knew, but he wasn't in a talkative mood, not that he ever was one for idle chatter.

Albus had no time to push him for information either. He had to prevent bloodshed between his Religion teacher and the school nurse. For some reason the relationship between those two had gone from distant to actually cold this year and now it was on the brink of war. What looked like a simple conflict of interests at first glance, proved quite confusing at a closer look.

Once every year Madame Pomfrey gave every student in the school a routine health check, usually starting in the first week after the Christmas holidays and finishing three or four weeks later. Nothing strange about that.

Doing the exams during the students' study hours, as had been the original custom, was rather difficult, as most of them were quite hard to find at those times. The same was true for the students whose years were in elective classes they didn't take.

An experiment with using Flying classes had turned out to be rather unpractical, because too much time was lost due to the long walk between the Quidditch field and the hospital wing and the students had been rather unwilling to leave the highly popular class as well. A less exciting class that was held closer to the hospital wing had had to be found.

For over twenty years now Poppy bad been calling the students out of History lessons. Professor Binns bad never minded and most students had been happy about the diversion.

And now, all of a sudden, Poppy had announced that the History schedule was impractical and it was time for a change. They couldn't always exploit Professor Binns' patience.

So much, so good. It really hadn't been fair, Albus agreed.

Next however Poppy had announced that, because the Religion classroom was even closer to her office than the History one, Religion was the ideal candidate.

Fulko had pointed out that Transfigurations and Charms were both closer to the hospital wing entrance, but Poppy had immediately agreed with Minerva and Filius that those classes' work shouldn't be interrupted.

Again Poppy had a point. Both classes included a lot of practical work that couldn't be made up by reading or writing an essay and both were notorious failing subjects for weak or lazy students. It was fine to borrow the highly talented ones from any lesson, but taking an already struggling student out at the time a new charm or transfiguration was explained could mean the difference between passing or failing.

Religion however was a touchy subject with an even more touchy teacher and Poppy had practically told him that he wasn't worth her concern. Never before had Fulko been challenged to that extent.

Albus wished he could ask Poppy what was behind her sudden dislike of the Templar, but that would probably not have contributed to the desperate efforts of the rest of he staff to keep the lunch conversation at the head table halfway civil. At least Severus was staying out of it, though Albus had the distinct feeling that he was giving Poppy the thumbs up sign under the table. It would explain the triumphant smirk she'd worn after the last time she'd glanced that way.

"Religion is a purely theoretical subject, Fulko.” he tried to calm the livid Templar. “The students can read up on whatever they miss in the fifteen minutes the exam takes. You can assign them essays on the topic to make sure they do."

"An essay can not make up for a test." Fulko yelped.

"Then test the students another day." Professor Sprout suggested. "It's not the end of the world. You'll just have to switch your schedule around a bit. The rest of us do that all the time.”

“I test my students every lesson! It's unthinkable to allow three to get away every time."

"Don't you think that's a bit much?" Severus asked to Albus' surprise. "Doesn't it take up too much of your class time?"

“They will be three different students every lesson.” Minerva pointed out "Each student gets away once, so in the end it’s absolutely fair."

“That's besides the point! The immortal souls of the students ..."

"Require nice healthy bodies to thrive." Poppy continued unimpressed. "Which is my mission in life, my calling, just as yours is to teach Religion. I do wonder how three students can miss out on being tested, if only one will be out of class at a time, by the way. If you spend forty-five minutes of each lesson testing, I have to agree with Severus. How does that leave you any time to teach?"

"It does leave fifteen minutes." Filius pointed out.

"You also have to take attendance, collect and return homework, as well as assign the new homework and any organisational matters that might come up." Professor Vector countered. "You are overreacting, Saint Aignon, admit it."

"So why don't you do it during Potions or Herbology!" Fulko yelled at the top of his lungs.

The students were beginning to watch them and whisper to each other. Not good. There'd be all sorts of rumours flying around the school by dinnertime.

“Fulko." Albus did his best to sound calm and reasonable rather than light and cheerful, which was what he did best. "Two reasons and they go for both subjects. They are held too far from the hospital wing and they are even more practical than Transfigurations and Charms."

Potions also had the highest failing rate in the school, but the last thing Albus wanted was to draw Severus into the fight.

"I understand your concerns, but it will take only fifteen minutes per student." he continued. "I'm sure you can bring in that time somehow. The exams are prescribed by the ministry and among other things serve to assure that none of the children are being abused by their parents. You wouldn't want to leave innocent children to suffer in such sinful families, would you?"

Fulko was not happy, but he relented in the end.

 

They'd told him that Flying class was the best of them all, but Loki soon began to have doubts. He managed to mount a broom without problem. It was easy compared to his first attempts at climbing into the saddle of his mother's pony.

Once on it he felt a lot less comfortable, though. There was nothing between his legs! No comfortable warm body, no thick mane of hair in front of him, no playing ears, no legs touching the ground. All there was was a thin wooden stick in the most uncomfortable place he could imagine and beneath that thin air. He decided then and there that he was afraid of heights. Who cared that the broom was currently hovering no higher than the back of his beloved pony? This was scary!

A broom, he found himself remembering, was a dead object. It had no life of its own, no brain, no instincts, no feelings, no fear of getting hurt. It wasn't going to correct any mistakes he made. If you steered a broom into a wall at top speed, it was going to crash into said wall and splinter into a thousand pieces.

Steer a pony into a wall at top speed and he'd either jump, swerve around it, or ram all four hooves into the ground and stop. Ponies weren't the brightest of animals, but they knew that a collision with a wall would hurt and therefore was to be avoided at all costs. A broom knew nothing at all.

Madame Hootch, the Flying teacher took one look at him and came over to stand by his side.

"Have you ever flown a broom before, Mr. Grey?" she asked with a displeased frown.

"No, Professor." he admitted. "Not ride brooms in Iceland. Too cold. Ride ponies."

At least that was the reason Draco had assumed and he felt that he had to give the teacher some explanation for his lack of skill.

"I see." Madame Hootch said a little more kindly. "You're trying to hold the handle the way you would the reigns of a horse, but that doesn't really work, does it."

It wasn't really a question, but Loki shook his head anyway.

Madame Hootch nodded and told the rest of the class to practise flying slalom around the Quidditch hoops while she showed him the basics then started to explain the proper grip and posture for flying.

In between Loki caught an occasional glance at Rascal and Theo darting through between the hoops, Pansy swerving around a post with what looked like less than an inch to spare, Gregory and Vincent nearly colliding as they chased some student he didn't know about ...

"Misters Goyle, Crabbe, Potter and Weasley!" Madame Hootch barked up at the flyers. "Stop those antics right away or you can spend the rest of the lesson cleaning school brooms."

It all looked so dangerous! Loki didn't want to be up there, so he played for time. He pretended to be stupid and clumsy and deliberately misunderstood the instructions.

"Sorry, not understand." he claimed when Hootch gave him an exasperated look at another messed up attempt at learning how to turn his broom. "What is knee?"

Madame Hootch sighed, but smiled at him kindly. “Oh, I'm sorry. This must seem terribly complicated when you don't understand half of the instructions. Knee is this. Now keep it here. Don't let it wander to the side." She pointed and manually corrected the position of his leg.

Loki nodded pretending to be relieved. "Knee. That ,wrong place for knee on pony. Very hard hold there. Always go back in pony place."

That was actually at least partially true. He kept habitually pulling his legs forward, because on a pony they just didn't belong that far back. His toes kept turning upwards to prevent imaginary stirrups from sliding too far back and again and again he found himself sitting up rather than leaning over the handle, trying to push the broom forwards like a horse.

"Flying not for me." he told Rascal and the others when they met up again outside the broom shed after class. "Is all different from riding."

"You'll learn." Theo assured him. "Some things just are more difficult to learn the older you are."

"Yes, next time you'll do better, you'll see." Blaise promised.

He bad to admit that the young wizards were nice, Loki thought. They were funny and friendly and trying to include him in their conversations even when he had no idea what they were talking about.

Gregory and Vincent were a bit dull in his opinion, but they were dear friends to Rascal and he knew that one shouldn't blame a creature for the limits its nature set for it. They might not be too bright, but they were strong and apparently good friends as well.

Theo and Blaise were much more fun, though Loki found it very hard to pronounce the latter's name.

"It's French." Blaise had explained when he'd apologised for his stuttering. "Well, Italian, too, but there it's for girls. In French it's a boys' name."

"How come you have a French first name and an Italian last name anyway?" the ever curious Pansy had asked.

"I don't know." Blaise had shrugged. "I have some Italian ancestors that gave us the last name. No French ones that I know of, though. I guess they just liked the name."

"That's stupid." Pansy had said. "It's an ugly name and nobody can pronounce it."

Pansy got on Loki's nerves. After her initial distaste she’d apparently changed her mind in her sleep. Now she always seemed to be wherever he went. Maybe she followed him. Not that that would have bothered him normally, but Pansy couldn't seem to shut up long enough to do homework. She always had questions and she came much too close for comfort.

That was an odd thing. He'd never minded huddling up with other kittens, but it bothered him when wizards touched him. He couldn't stand skin contact with them and preferred them at least a metre away entirely. Most of them seemed to know that instinctively and gave him that space, but a few just didn't get it and he didn't know how to tell them without being impolite.

Of the girls he liked studious and quiet Estella best. She was as curious as Pansy he'd noticed after a while, but tended to observe rather than ask questions and never pushed him. Estella kept her distance from people most of the time. Maybe she too didn't like skin contact with other wizards.

The most rambunctious of the girls was called Millicent and rather fun to be around. Of all the witches he had met so far she was most like the female kittens he was used to. She liked to touch people, though, give them friendly puffs or slap them on the shoulder.

The other two girls were odd. They'd look at him, whisper to each other and giggle and whenever they addressed him they'd blush and stutter. At first he'd thought they had a speech impediment, but they spoke normally when talking, to other people. The other boys had been as confused about it as he was, so in the end he'd turned to Raven for an explanation.

The adult cat had apparently found it hilarious and told him that he was cursed with a too good looking human shape. Loki didn't find it the slightest bit funny.

 

On Thursday morning Loki had his first ever experience with a Templar.

"Now remember," Rascal told him on the way to Religion class. "The teacher's name is Sir Saint Aignon. He is a professor, too, but you don't call him that. You call him Sir. When he asks you something you say 'Yes, Sir.' or 'No, Sir.' and when you don't understand him or he's angry with you it's 'Sorry, Sir.'."

"He won't be pleased to hear that you don't know any Latin." Blaise added. "It's very important in his class."

"And he's very strict." Pansy added. "You have to work hard to please him. "

"You can't please him." said Gregory. "No matter how hard you try. There's always something you've got wrong."

"Don't worry, he won't kill you." Theo reassured him. "He'll have to accept that you weren't taught in English so far. He can't demand you know any prayers by heart."

Loki assumed that he must have gone very pale. His stomach was knotting up with fear and his claws were itching to snap out. He concentrated on pulling them in as far as they would go and hoped that they'd stay there. Theo's casual reference to killing wasn't helping any.

The ones already in the class when they arrived were apparently called Ravenclaws. He and Rascal were supposed to be Slytherins. He didn't quite get the thing about houses and the weird names, but it apparently meant that they belonged to Raven, which was a good thing in Loki's opinion. He didn't want to belong to some strange wizard.

The Ravenclaws already being there was a bad thing as it turned out. There seemed to be more of them in the last row than in the fist one. All the popular seats were already taken.

Rascal secured a table in the middle of the classroom for them.

"It's not the best place, but inconspicuous." he commented. "In front you have the best view and give the impression that you're eager to learn, but you're also right under the nose of the teacher. In the back he can't see you as well, but he'll expect you to have chosen that place to escape attention or hide something, so he'll pay more attention to you. Here you look neither overly studious, nor wanting to hide, just an average student."

"You say the Ravenclaws are studious?" Loki asked him. "Why so many sit in the back?"

Draco frowned. "I don't know. They're also supposed to be very religious, but maybe that's just prejudice. Maybe they like Religion no more or less than we do after all."

The first ever Templar of his life marched into the classroom looking very tall and imposing. A stiff, stern looking figure in a tight white wizard's robe wearing the famous white mantle with a red cross on. Erect and proud. Loki shuddered and did his best not to duck behind Vincent's back when the Templar's cold eyes fell on him.

"Good morning, class." Sir Saint Aignon greeted them finally.

"Good morning, Sir." the class chorused.

Loki cut himself off quickly when he noticed he’d started to say Professor instead of Sir. This wasn't going to be easy.

"You may sit down. - Quietly." It sounded like a threat the way the Templar said it.

At first the lesson continued the way he was beginning to get used to. The teacher collected their homework and read out the register.

"Here, Sir!" was the standard answer, so that's what Loki said when Saint Aignon read out: "Grey, Loki!"

The Templar glared at him.

Loki did his best to look calm and curious.

"What kind of parents christen their child Loki?" the Templar demanded with a disgusted sneer. "You are christened, aren't you?"

Loki blinked. He'd never heard the word christened before, but he had no problem guessing what it meant. No, he wasn't christened. He'd been named by his mother who was the first adult that had seen his cat-form. He couldn't admit that in front of the Templar, though, so should he lie and say that he was christened? Was there a way the teacher could check? Was it better to admit that he wasn't and say his parents were without confession?

"Well, speak up!"

Loki flinched.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Rascal timidly raised his hand.

"What is it Mr. Malfoy?" Saint Aignon acknowledged impatiently.

"I think Loki doesn't understand the question, Sir. He has only a very basic English vocabulary. His first language is Icelandic." Rascal explained. "I doubt he knows what christened means. He must be, though. He prays before bed every evening."

That was an outright lie, but to his surprise the other Slytherin boys all nodded in confirmation.

"Yes, he does." Gregory agreed. "I've seen it, too."

"Sir Saint Aignon," Pansy said enunciating every word very slowly and clearly and pointing at the Templar. "Wants to know why your name is Loki. Why name Loki?"

"Oh." Loki pretended to finally understand. He beamed at the Templar. "Is name of father of father of mother."

"Ah, so it's a family tradition." Pansy nodded proudly.

"Loki is the name of a heathen god." Saint Aignon barked.

"But Sir," Rascal said. "So's Minerva and Apollo and Diana. That doesn't mean Professor McGonagall, or Mrs Fudge or Apollo Green are heathens, does it?"

"No, they are just overly fancy names, but I have never heard Loki used as a first name before." The Templar was still glaring at him.

"Have you heard Birra or Snorri before?" Theo asked him. "I haven't, but according to the geographic lexicon they are very common names. They just don't name people Michael, or Theodore or Fulko in Iceland. Loki is probably just a fancy name to them, like Minerva is to us."

"Iceland may be a good Christian country on the outside, but they are lax and lazy about it. They never completely destroyed the belief in the false gods there, nor do they persecute and punish it properly." Saint Aignon explained. "Be wary of foreigners children and do not believe what they tell you of strange gods and miracles. We, the humble servants of the Temple know the truth. Follow only our guidance."

It went on like this for a while, but at least the Templar's attention was no longer on him.

Role call was forgotten. Instead Saint Aignon started quizzing various students once he was finished with his rant. Loki couldn't even tell what the topic was. Words like inauguration, ascension and catechism were flying about alongside the more recognisable pope, Vatican and holy.

Why a religion that insisted there was only one god also included the concept of holy ghosts was beyond him, but at least one of them was mentioned. Besides christening they were also very big on some sort of confirmation, though Loki couldn't figure out who needed to confirm what.

Then there was the word matrimony which he theorised might be a fancy way of saying motherhood. Immaculate and conception always came up in combination, quite often accompanied by the name Mary which was apparently holy as well.

Loki spent most of the lesson leafing through the old Religion book Raven had given him hoping to find some of the weird words. If he knew how to spell them he could look them up in a dictionary. Maybe, if he knew what they meant, he'd be able to follow the class work.

 

"I'm worried Severus." Albus Dumbledore admitted.

A rare occurrence. Raven wasn't entirely sure how to deal with it.

"Why?" he asked the headmaster. "Voldemort has been very quiet lately. It seems he is concentrating most of his attention on destroying Azkaban brick by brick. That will keep him occupied for a while."

"Because," Albus said with a deep sigh. "I don't know why he's doing it. Azkaban is the most secure place in all of Great Britain, maybe even all of Europe. I expected him to make it his headquarters, tighten up security, turn it into an impregnable fortress. Instead he's taking it apart."

"So he prefers to keep us in the dark about his actual center of operations. No fortress is as safe as one nobody even knows where to look for."

"Indeed, but then why attack and destroy Azkaban?"

"Isn't that obvious? He wanted the imprisoned death eaters as well as the dementors. Now there is nothing left on the island that he wants and he doesn't want the island itself. Keeping it would mean he'd have to station wizards to defend it. Wizards that he might have better use for elsewhere. Leaving it undefended means someone else could hole up in there and it was hard enough to take it the first time. Either we or the ministry could turn it into our fortress just as you expected him to do. He doesn't want to have to take it a second time, so he destroys it."

"They why do it one brick at a time? It would be much faster to blow it up."

"Those are very strong walls." Raven remarked. "And it extends quite far below the ground. An explosion might not be able to destroy it completely."

"Maybe not, but smaller explosions could bring down individual walls, yet he has not even tried it as if he fears to damage something. There must be something hidden in Azkaban, Severus, something he desperately wants, but he has no idea where it is."

"If he is going to search every single room on the island that will keep him busy for at least a year."

"But what will he do when he finds it? We can't be sure he won't get lucky. It doesn't have to be in the last room he searches."

"So you want to take Azkaban back?"

"With what army, Severus? We're not strong enough. Maybe if we finally found the Catar, we would be, but as it is we stand no chance. No, but we need to know what it is he is looking for."

"Then set Fudge to the task. The ministry has enough researchers and a big library. Not to mention that it has been the owner of the island for at least two centuries. I don't have time for yet another project, Albus."

"I know. I just thought you could ask your contacts. Maybe there are rumours about. Anything really."

Raven stared him down. It was a bit of cat-behaviour, but not suspicious enough to be noticed.

“I don't suppose you've made any progress on finding the Catar?" Albus asked suddenly.

"How often do I have to tell you that I don't have the right contacts for that?" Severus glared at him. "And I haven't even been in the country."

"Well, it just occurred to me, that if I were a Catar, Iceland would look like a very good country to hide in. You're sure you didn't meet any there?"

"Iceland would be much safer for them than Scotland, yes, but not safe enough to run around in potion markets waving their tails around." Severus snapped. "I was there to check out the ingredient market, Albus. Besides that I've made contact with some local brewers, had some very educational discussions and had to arrange some sight seeing and other entertainment for a teenage boy. We had a good time together, bonded a little, vaguely touched upon some moral subjects and I even found him a friend who will draw him away from his father's influence. What else did you expect me to fit into a two week holiday? Should I maybe have gone and defeated the dark lord single-handedly in a spare minute? If there are Catar in Iceland, I didn't happen to accidentally stumble upon them, but then that isn't surprising. They're in hiding, Albus and Iceland is a big country with lots of remote mountains. It would probably take years to search it all."

"But you did make friends there." Albus stated patiently. He was used to his Potions Master's occasional outbursts. "Perhaps some of them could be useful in the war? Or help us contact the Catar?"

"I've made contacts in the potions field. They aren't warriors, or overly adventurous people. I can try to ask them about Catar, yes, but do not expect them to take an active role in the war. They will prove valuable for the school, I hope, but that is all I expect from them."

"And Mr. Grey?" Albus prompted. "He doesn't appear to be the studious type."

"Grey is a simple farmer who lives a peaceful life with his little family. He was our host for a few days in the country. A common wizard with a son about Draco's age seemed the perfect choice for the boy. He is not a soldier and I wouldn’t want to ask him. Do you realise what it might do to his family, if he were killed?"

 

Finding out whether there were any Catar in Germany looked a lot more difficult once you were actually there, Greypony realised. How did one ask about things one wasn't supposed to know from people who probably really didn't know without speaking their language?

He'd admired Raven for daring to ask those questions as well as to travel alone with only a kitten for company into a strange land. Now he was even more impressed. How had Raven done it?

Would it seem ridiculous to write back to Scotland and ask?

He checked maps and travel guides at several Muggle book shops. They didn't name any magical sites, of course, but gave him a good idea of what regions had the smallest Muggle populations and what the nearest tourist-spots were.

As a Muggle tourist he was less likely to attract attention from the Templars than as a travelling wizard, he'd decided, though one trip into the wizarding world had been inevitable. He'd had to research the magical history of the places he'd identified as possible hiding spots and their proximity to wizarding centers as well as areas of increased Templar presence.

The later two points gave him trouble, though. He was sure they'd have an influence on whatever decisions the local Catar would make, but couldn't determine to what extent or in which direction.

Had someone asked him two months ago, he'd have said that the local Catar would make sure to stay well away from such places, but then he'd met Raven.

The Sacred Forest Clan had obviously continued outlived the Stonehenge Clan by at least one generation despite the fact that it was right next to Hogsmeade and Howarts and only about a day's broom ride from the seat of the Temple's Grand Master.

The apparently much safer Stonehenge Clan had abandoned it's seat to the Muggles while the Sacred Forest clan had simply dwindled away. Was it then more likely to find any surviving German Catar living on the outskirts of the wizarding world like the Sacred Forest Clan, perhaps even living among wizards as Raven did, or would they be more likely to hide in a thinly populated Muggle area as he and Mistwalker did?

Most of the German Muggles he met at first spoke no better English than Loki, though there were a few exceptions. Apparently younger Germans and those working with tourists were a lot better at it.

"Idiot." he chided himself. "Obviously the average elderly shopkeeper would be out of practise."

He didn't have time to chat for hours until their tongues loosened, though. So instead he hung around tourist bars and hotels and talked with waiters, barkeepers and hotel clerks. It wasn't such a bad choice. These people met a lot of travellers and heard a lot of stories.

By the end of the first week he was quite familiar with the tales of the crocodile in the Rhine, or occasionally, for variety, the Danube, and the 'Eastern Mafia' of Berlin. Neither of those were any help in his quest, though.

A Japanese tourist told him about a man-eating bear that had been sighted in Bavaria, while an American couple insisted that it had been Bigfoot. Nobody believed that at least, but the young barkeeper confided his own theory in Greypony's group: There might be no way Bigfoot could have crossed the ocean and come here from America, but a Yeti should have no problem walking to Bavaria from the Himalayan.

"The iron curtain used to stop the wild animals from crossing into western Europe, you see." he explained. "Now that the border isn't as well guarded anymore they're beginning to seep through."

Greypony pitied the no doubt extremely footsore and hot Yeti.

"Well, I don't want to burst the kid’s bubble." an old man who worked the night shift at the front desk of a neighbouring third rate hotel commented once the barkeeper had turned away to serve another customer. "But according to the news what they have in Bavaria is an Italian bear and the worst he's done is kill a couple of sheep."

"So no man-eating monster, huh?" Greypony lifted his glass to him. "Surprise, surprise."

"These things grow with the telling." the night clerk agreed. "Especially around here. Tourists like man-eating monsters, I guess. They're exciting."

"Like the crocodiles in your rivers?" Greypony mentioned mostly out of boredom.

"Or the cats in the Schwarzwald." The man added.

"Cats?" Greypony asked trying to pass his reaction off as incredulity. "Why wouldn't there be cats in the Sh ... whatever it's called?"

"Schwarzwald." he shrugged. "The black-forest. Of course they have house-cats there, but that's not what I meant. Every year we get some idiots who claim to have seen cat footprints as large as your hand, huge monstrous lions or tigers or sometimes even overgrown house cats. Crazy, isn't it?"

"Indeed." Greypony nodded lazily his heart racing. Seeming relaxed and disinterested when you were really excited was an innate cat-skill after all. It didn't give him much of a problem. "Is that forest such a wilderness that people imagine undiscovered monsters there?"

"Not really." the man said. "Not what you'd probably call a wilderness. We don't have those huge thinly populated areas you have in Iceland. Shouldn't have any terrible monsters either. Germany is no place for large cats or crocodiles. Even that bear won't last for long."

The next day Greypony relocated to the Schwarzwald. The tourist guides recommended that it was a place for hiking. For the first time since his arrival Greypony intended to follow their advice.

The region reminded him of the Sacred Forest, though it wasn't nearly as wild. Most likely that would change once he left the well beaten paths. When he found the wildest part of the forest, he suspected, he'd find the Catar.


	16. Chapter 15: Shadows In The Forest

Chapter 15: Shadows In The Forest

 

"Just look at that!" Ron pointed excitedly at the head table. "Snape's got another owl! That's the second one this year!"

"The third," Hermione corrected dryly.

"Even worse!" Ron yelped. "It's a plot!"

"It's mail," Harry pointed out with a sigh. "You get some yourself about every second week. Why shouldn't Snape?"

Hanging out with Ron was always a chore, but Neville had gone to the hospital wing for another allergy test and he hadn't wanted to sit all alone at breakfast. So he'd decided to eat with Hermione, who unfortunately happened to be talking to Ron this week.

"Who'd want to write that git?" Ron demanded.

"Who knows. There are many possibilities," Hermione shrugged. "It could be a former student asking for his professional opinion, the parent of one of the Slytherins ..."

"Or maybe a relative," Ginny Weasley threw in. "That's where most of your mail comes from, isn't it."

"It could be a friend saying hi," Harry continued the list. "Or a colleague. He went to some Potions Masters' meeting in Iceland during the Christmas holidays, I heard. Maybe he's exchanging research notes with someone he met there."

"Of course!" Hermione beamed. "That's it! It must be from Mr. Grey. You know, Loki Grey's father."

"Why him?" Harry asked slightly confused. "Wouldn't he write to Grey instead?"

"Grey got an owl, too," Hermione pointed out and indeed when Harry looked over at the Slytherin table Grey and Malfoy were reading some parchment. "He wrote them both. And why shouldn't he? I heard he's travelling through all of Europe. I'm sure he has a lot of exciting experiences to share."

"But why share them with Snape?" Ron argued. "There must be nicer people he could write to."

"Maybe he thinks Snape is nice," Harry suggested. "Fred and George say they're friends."

"And how would Fred and George know?" Ron challenged.

"Well, I suppose they heard it from the Slytherins," Harry said. "Who probably heard it from Grey."

"You think my brothers talk with stinking Slytherins?" Now Ron was insulted. Just great.

"Why the hell not? Hermione asked. "Slytherins know things, too. They'd be stupid not to talk to them, if they want that information."

"They're interested in Potions," Ginny explained just in case that explanation was too general for Ron. "Most of the top students in that area are Slytherins."

However Ron wasn't listening to his sister anyway. He was staring at Hermione.

"Don't curse!" he yelped. "You'll go to that place when you die!"

Hermione groaned.

"Ron, you are an idiot," Harry informed the redhead.

"What else's new?" Ginny sighed. "It's no use telling him, though. Doesn't change a thing. We've been doing it for years."

 

There was a loud crash as another jar of ingredients that he hadn't been able to levitate back onto its shelf fast enough met an early end. Raven sighed.

His office might have been a fine playground for the newly transformed Rascal, but for two playful kittens used to the wide open Icelandic stone desert it was hopelessly too small and cluttered. In his games with the White Wolf kittens Rascal had finally developed the muscles he needed to make full use of his cat-body and he was now able to run and jump much higher, faster, wider and longer.

Loki with his longer, leaner body was even worse off. Never before in his life had the Icelandic kitten been this boxed in. It was against their kind's nature to spend most of their day inside buildings of cold stone and unlike the constantly repressed Rascal Loki had had a natural kittenhood.

Much as the kitten enjoyed their weekly excursions into the Sacred Forest and all the new experiences life in boarding school brought, Raven knew that he was suffering. Loki needed freedom to run, jump, climb, wrestle and race and oh how much good it would do Rascal as well.

Raven jumped and caught the next falling jar with his teeth rather than magic. The move was unnecessary, but, if he had been entirely honest with himself, he would have had to admit that it wasn't just the kittens who needed to run and play and were longing to return to the wilderness of Iceland and the true Catar lifestyle. Humankind's so-called civilised life was not for them. They didn't belong in cities or castles.

Yet, he couldn't take the kittens on excursions every day. On weekdays the tight Hogwarts schedule didn't allow it and even on weekends it was risky. If they weren't back at mealtime, they would be missed.

Of course he could tell Albus and his fellow teachers that he'd gone out to gather ingredients and had taken his favourite students along to help, but he couldn't do that every week. Even once a month was too frequent. He didn't need that many ingredients and most of the staff knew it.

So he held that excuse back to use only when somebody asked where they'd been and saw to it that they were always back for lunch and dinner. Too big was the risk that they'd be missed outside of meals. He was known to be reclusive, but that didn't mean he never spent time with his colleagues. Argus Filch might stop by for a chat, or to ask after a particularly nasty stain in the classroom. Minerva McGonagall might floo to invite him for tea, Flitwick might offer a game of chess or cards, Sprout a fresh ingredient from her glass houses. The headmaster might visit his office over anything or nothing and anyone might want to complain about a student or report an emergency in the Slytherin dorms.

And those were only the situations where he was likely to be missed. The kittens shared their dorm with four other boys and their common room with a whole house of other students.

Both were popular and often invited to join others in games or studying. Sooner or later their frequent absences would be noticed.

He'd considered asking Poppy to allow them use of the hospital wing whenever there were no patients there. It offered a lot more room to play in and any breakable objects could easily be removed into the nurse's office in advance, but the risk of someone walking in on them was just too big.

There was no way to predict when somebody would get hurt, or require a simple headache potion. Albus frequently visited Poppy and locking the hospital wing doors was impossible. It would arouse suspicion right away. Those doors were always open to anyone in need of help.

And this week even the weekend trip was most likely out of the question.

He was excited about Greypony's news, though. The thought of finally finding a Southener clan, the hope that they would be in contact with others as Mistwalker had been.

In the time it had taken Greypony to find the trail of the German clan Mistwalker had received confirmation of interest from two more Northener clan masters, Midnight from Norway and Nightsky from Finland. Mistwalker was hopeful for more and had every cause to be. There had been no flat out refusals as of yet.

Greypony too sounded enthusiastic about his first success even though he hadn't actually made contact, yet. He had located the clan's village, but not dared to approach any further on his own. They'd do that together on the weekend, make an official, formal visit. For some reason Greypony seemed convinced that Raven wouldn't be chased off on sight.

Raven himself was slightly less optimistic. His dark aura was going to cause suspicion while Greypony on his own would most likely be welcomed more openly. The Germans were Southeners, though and there was a chance they wouldn't welcome a Northener. Greypony seemed more worried about that old political disagreement than the dark magic that was a perversion of nature itself.

Looking at his life experiences Raven could see the argument there. It might not make sense, but people did like to hate each other about mostly philosophical issues or minor differences. Most of his life had been spent among humans, though, a race that was generally out of tune with its nature. Raven hoped that his own kind were better than that.

 

"Leaving for an entire weekend and it's not even on order business, Severus?" Albus Dumbledore asked with a happy twinkle. "That's almost completely unprecedented. What are you up to?"

Nothing much," Raven replied with a casual shrug. "Meeting a friend."

"One of your old friends contacted you?" The headmaster's head snapped up suddenly serious.

Raven cursed himself for the choice of the apparently innocent half-truth as his excuse.

"No, not someone from the Death Eater circles, a new friend. Do you remember Mr. Grey?"

"Ah, of course. The travelling farmer from Iceland." Albus immediately relaxed. "How is he then?"

He hadn't meant to give this much away, but being evasive would only arouse suspicion once more. "He's in Germany now and has invited me along on a hiking trip. There might be some rare ingredients to find, if we're lucky."

"Getting bored with sight-seeing already?" Albus twinkled.

"More likely getting tired of having nobody to share the magical sights with," Severus offered. "He has met mostly Muggle tourists on his way judging from his letters and he can't well invite them along on an ingredient search."

"I see," Albus nodded. "Well, have fun then and I'll find someone to watch your house while you're gone. Sybil must be bored teaching only ten hours a week this year anyway."

Raven glared at the headmaster. "Don't you dare!"

One of the reasons he very rarely stayed out overnight had always been that nobody handled Slytherin quite as well as he did. No matter who was given charge of his students something always went wrong and he worried. They could be, and usually were, small things, like a party getting out of hand or students sneaking out of bed as had happened to Lupin over Christmas. Severus could forgive that. Children always tried unexpected things around a teacher that didn't know them.

The things that happened whenever Sybil Trelawney was put in charge of more than a small group of students however were not a laughing matter. He didn't want to return to find a third of his house in the hospital wing as had indeed happened to Professor Sprout once when the Divination teacher had stood in for her. And those had been Hufflepuffs, a friendly and generally obedient house.

Give a teacher like that responsibility for a house like Slytherin or Gryffindor and the results might well turn out to be life threatening.

"Well, maybe not her. How do you think your students would get along with Fulko?" Albus teased.

"They'd probably obey him, but I doubt they'd ever forgive me for the trip under those circumstances."

Albus looked at him in surprise. "They wouldn't test his limits?"

He'd never assigned the Templar to house–watching fearing complaints of lost time of prayer and Mass preparations.

"A few of them maybe. A handful at the most," Raven judged. "In general Slytherin house is afraid of him. Many of my students have grown up with their parents' warnings that the Hogwarts Templar likes nothing more than burning disobedient or forward students at the stake."

"Isn't that a slight exaggeration?"

"It's what keeps them attending Mass and looking attentive in his classes," Raven stated. "As for me, I'm honest with them. I can't stand the Templar and I don't want him knocking on my office door no matter what the reason."

"I always thought you get along with Fulko better than the other teachers?" Albus asked slightly surprised.

"I don't want that fight," Raven declared. And neither do you. I'm not blind, Albus. I see how you back down every time he challenges you."

 

They met in a small Muggle inn in Germany not far from the wizarding town Raven had flooed to.

"I feel more comfortable meeting here," Greypony explained over breakfast. "Muggle tourists are much less likely to attract attention from the local Templars than travelling wizards, so I've been keeping to the Muggle sights as much as possible."

"There is only one Templar in this district," Severus told him calmly. "And he isn't a very active one. This country gets a lot less attention from the order than we do in Britain. They are too far from the seat of the Grand Master."

"You may be used to the tight Templar network in Britain," Greypony allowed. "But I've lived all my life in safe, almost Templar-free Iceland. A few lazy Templars in the country are still more than I'm used to."

Raven shrugged. They were here. Where they'd met didn't really matter.

"So what have you found?"

"A ward protected village in the denser part of the forest," Greypony reported. Several strong hiding charms against Muggles, wizards, humans in general and one weaker general one that almost fooled me."

"That's tight security," Raven commented. "Bordering on paranoia. What are they hiding from?"

"This forest is much more well travelled than yours," Greypony pointed out. "And the village is close to a Muggle hiking route. The general ward must be troublesome for their hunters, though. It's vague enough to keep away the prey as well."

"Most likely a small community that lives mostly off Muggle or wizarding jobs," Raven suggested.

"It felt like fifteen to twenty adults," Greypony countered. "In the early afternoon when most humans are at work. I wasn't close enough to feel any kittens. There never was a hint of a Catar aura in any of the villages I visited, but I found trails all over the forest. So unless they're trading with the wizarding town, I believe we are dealing with a traditional self-sufficient clan. If we assume that some adults were out hunting when I checked the village, their clan is about the same size as mine."

Raven strongly suspected that it wasn't. Iceland with its thin population offered a lot more room than Germany.

"They haven't made any move to contact you?" he asked his friend. "If you were close enough to the village to judge their number . . ."

"They must have felt me as well," Greypony agreed. "And I do think that they're watching me, though they have never followed me into one of the Muggle communities. I occasionally felt them brush against the outer limit of my senses while walking in the forest."

"Shy, but curious," Raven summed up. "Well, they'll have to show themselves when we walk straight into their village."

 

Loki and Rascal's weekend had a much less pleasant start, though that may have been their own fault. They'd promised Raven not to go into the forest on their own, but it had been just too tempting. With only their Religion homework left to do over the weekend they'd thought they could risk a short visit until about lunch time. The clearing they'd played in with Raven wasn't too far from the castle. A little visit couldn't hurt, right?

Wrong. Hagrid had seen them sneak off and dragged them back before they'd even gone far enough to transform safely. At least the half-giant had promised them detention with Professor Snape once he returned. Maybe Raven would let them spend it playing in his office.

Not that that was really likely. He'd probably be furious with them for disobeying him.

"Most likely we'll have to scrub dirty cauldrons for hours," Rascal predicted shaking his hands, first one then the other, in disgust.

Loki shrugged and resisted imitating the feline gesture. Used cauldrons stank.

"So what do you want to do now?" he asked Rascal hopefully. "Get the Religion assignment out of the way?"

"Not those stupid sermons again!" Rascal groaned. "I thought they were supposed to be for their priests only."

"We have to do it sooner or later," Loki reminded him. "And at least we don't have to learn them by heart."

"It's easy for you. You can just sum it up in a few simple sentences and claim to be proud to have figured out the meaning of a difficult English text. I have to interpret the damn thing."

"It's not damned," Loki smirked. "It's holy. It's a sermon."

"Of course it's damned," Rascal returned grinning. "If they can damn our chants, we practically have a duty to damn their sermons in return."

"Shush!" Theo had somehow managed to sneak up behind them. "Our class might all be of the old faith, but that doesn't mean there can't be any Catholics in the house. You might be overheard."

"Yes, better keep such conversations in the dorm," Gregory agreed.

"Are you two coming out to play Quidditch with us?" Vincent asked. "Hooch has finally opened the pitch again and we haven't done anything all together in ages."

"Quidditch?" Loki asked. "You want me to fly in my free time?"

"It's fun," Vincent assured him.

"Ah, leave Loki alone, Vince," Blaise laughed. "He can't fly well enough anyway. Probably wouldn't even be able to catch a ball."

"I want to see you in a pony race someday," Loki grinned at him. Or hunting rabbits, but he couldn't mention that to the wizard children.

"So how about it, Draco?" Pansy pushed. "Now that your growth spurt is over you can fly again, can't you?"

"Well," Rascal hesitated and looked at Loki. "I'd love to, but if Loki doesn't want to play."

"It's okay," Loki lied. "You go play. I'll just ... go read something in the library. Have to practise my English."

"Don't let the Templar catch you," Theo threw back over his shoulder.

Loki shuddered even though he knew Theo had only meant to tease him about his pretence of bad English in Religion class. If Saint Aignon got the impression that Loki could understand a normal English text without a dictionary, he'd probably have higher expectations of his written work.

Just as a precaution he put a dictionary on the desk along with the book about Salazar Slytherin that he picked in the hope that it held some information about the Sacred Forest clan. It was sad that a school co-founded by a Catar couldn't offer him a single book about Catar lore. He wasn't interested in reading and summarising a Catholic sermon, but he'd have loved to learn a new chant right now.

"Hey Grey," a wild-haired witch girl greeted him and deposited her stack of books next to his dictionary. "Mind if I sit with you? I won't disturb you and you can ask me, if you have problems with your text."

"I'm Loki, not Grey," he said automatically. He didn't feel comfortable being addressed by his father's human name.

"Hermione," she introduced herself.

He remembered the teachers calling her Miss Granger in class. According to her uniform and the classes they shared she had to be a Gryffindor. Raven and Rascal were very cautious about those, so he decided to play up his language problems. This was the first time he was completely alone with a member of another house, he realised, and he knew nothing at all about her.

"Doing homework?" he asked hoping to forestall too much talk about himself and his family.

"No, this is research," she returned blushing a little with embarrassment as she pointed at the stack of books. "I ... I'm Muggle born, you see, so I try to read a lot to help me get to know the wizarding world."

She gave him a challenging look as she said that. Loki didn't really know why. He'd expect her to be the sort of person who read a lot. Like Theo she tended to be overlooked outside of class, because she was so quiet, but during lessons her hand was almost always in the air and her answers to teachers were fast and long.

He tried to remember who her friends were, but came up empty. She didn't seem to fit in with the giggly painted up Gryffindor girls. Maybe she would have been more at home with the more quiet and natural Hufflepuffs, he thought. They seemed more sociable as well and would probably have befriended her despite her apparent shyness.

"I too," he said holding up his book so she could read the title. "Learn about Slytherin."

"They say he was a dark wizard and that his house was evil as well," Hermione told him. "Not that I believe in such generalisations."

"Not dark wizard," it just slipped out. "Was light cat."

Hermione's eyes grew very wide. "You man he was a Catar?"

"Shhh!" he hissed. Oh, what to do now?

Luckily Hermione immediately shut up and glanced around nervously.

"It's okay," she assured him. "Saint Aignon never comes to the library on Saturdays."

"You say you're Muggle?" he asked feeling the knot of fear in his belly loosen a little. Apparently Hermione was a tolerant witch who wouldn't kill someone for not believing everything the Templar said. He'd heard that that was true for a lot of Muggle children.

She nodded. "Muggle-born, yes. And raised in the Anglican confession. Iceland is Catholic, though, aren't you?"

Loki smiled at her. "We are many things and we say many things. You know who Loki is?"

"Er ... well ... I thought you are?"

She was confused! She didn't know! Imagine being thirteen years old and not knowing the name of one of the most important gods!

"Is my name, yes, but I named for other," he explained now regretting his decision not to let on how well he spoke her language. "Loki is brother of Odin. You know who Odin, right? Odin Votan." What else would British Muggles be likely to call the god?

"That's ... that's the head god of some ancient pagan religion, isn't it?"

Loki nodded eagerly. "Loki is trickster. Like Puck."

Ah yes, she did know who Puck was.

"So it like my name Puck."

She nodded. "And the Catar, they're pagans, too? Is that why Saint Aignon calls them dark?"

"They priests of old religion," he confirmed. "Very powerful, but good magic, not dark."

"So then, if the founders were Catar," Hermione theorised. "Maybe Hogwarts was originally meant to train wizarding children in the old religion."

"No, only Salazar Catar. Others wizards. Ravenclaw very Catholic, but build school in holy place. Is Sacred Forest outside. Not know why build so close to holy place. Not know why build together."

"Wait a minute, Loki," Hermione asked excitedly. "Whose holy place? What is holy? Which religion?"

"Old faith. Forest holy. Catar place."

"And the Catholics? Is or was there a holy place of theirs here as well?"

"Not know. Sir Saint Aignon say there holy place?"

"No, but why would the other three agree to build their school in a place that favoured Slytherin's religion? I'd expect them to choose either a neutral spot or one with equal significance to both religions. And why is there nothing about this in Hogwarts, A History?"

"Not know," Loki repeated. "Maybe book say."

Excitedly Hermione bent over the book beside him, her own stack of research forgotten.

"Not tell anyone," Loki cautioned her when they finally had to go to dinner. "Not even friends. Is forbidden."

To his surprise that remark caused the spark of yet another idea to light up in her eyes.

"Forbidden books! Of course! Why didn't I think of that sooner? The answers must be in the restricted section!"

He didn't understand why this girl had no close friends. She was brilliant, full of fascinating ideas and fun to talk to. It was a pity that they couldn't continue their search, but food was more important. Unlike most of the wizards here Loki knew how hard it could be to ensure that there was enough to eat for everybody and what it meant to be hungry. Catar life wasn't always easy.

 

They changed into their cat-forms as soon as they had left the hiking route. Side by side they strode in a straight line towards the village keeping a steady, but slow pace. They wanted their approach to be as open and non-threatening as possible.

As the forest got deeper and denser they had to divert slightly from their route to slink around tree trunks and bushes more and more often. Smaller obstacles they jumped over or ducked under casually. They didn't stop to explore or play.

A vague hint of a suppressed aura that had been following them since they'd stepped into the forest disappeared about two hours into the trip and it was almost another hour before Raven felt them again. This time there were at least five ... no seven of them and they were ahead of him and Greypony. Come from the village no doubt.

They too were trying to hide their auras and Raven almost wished he could transform and discuss this with Greypony. Were their watchers aware that he could feel them or was his cat-sense finer than they assumed? Greypony had said that he'd felt his watcher only occasionally, but to Raven he had been obvious until he'd slipped away to alert the village to their arrival. Had he followed them more closely because of Raven's unexpected appearance or was it Raven's warrior training that had sharpened his senses more than the hunter's?

It did make sense. In a hunting party you used your cat-sense to monitor the position of your companions, but they had no reason to hide by suppressing their aura. A war party sneaking up on a hostile group of cats or wizards or an enemy cat sneaking up on you on the other hand would do everything they could to hide their aura, so looking for suppressed auras had been a standard part of his training from a very young age.

Then again, Raven had spent almost all of his adulthood and even much of his teens among humans without much chance to use his Catar skills, while Greypony had been depending on them all his life. Most likely his cat-sense had dulled from lack of use, so Greypony should be aware of their watchers as well.

The German cats were nervous shadows flickering up and down beside their path, sometimes beside them, then slightly behind, but most of the time ahead of them.

Raven decided against reacting to their presence. If they thought themselves undetectable, it would not be a good idea to frighten them with a show of superior skill, and if they expected to be noticed, ignoring their sneaking about would demonstrate their trust and friendly intentions as well as the fact that they wanted an open meeting.

More time passed until he finally felt three of them step openly into their path while the other four continued to suppress their auras and let themselves fall behind the two approaching cats.

Raven and Greypony exchanged a look. Either this was a threat or the German cats really thought themselves invisible to their cat-sense. No matter which of the two was true, Raven did not like it.

Nevertheless they went on as if nothing at all had happened. They had come here to meet these cats and this was their chance.

The Germans were waiting for them in a small clearing. A dirty-yellow cat at the head of the traditional V-formation appeared to be the clan master. His aura felt tight and focused, but not as powerful as Greypony's or Mistwalker's. The two behind him, a dark grey and a pretty black and white, were little better and less focused.

No particularly talented priests in this clan at the moment, Raven concluded, clearly their leader had been chosen for other merits. Intelligence and dedication most likely. They were good qualities for a leader and could easily make up for a lack of power.

He and Greypony remained at exactly the same height as they walked up and stopped before the stranger, demonstrating their equal rank.

The Germans looked at them expectantly. Greypony tilted his head slightly so he could watch both them and Raven. Apparently he was expected to make the first move. It wouldn't have been Raven's choice, but things couldn't go much worse than they had with Mistwalker. Stretching his head forward he offered his nose in greeting to find that Greypony had mirrored the move exactly.

The dirty-yellow cat hesitated at the sight of two heads offered at once, then sniffed cautiously between them and nervously flicked one ear at Raven's left foreleg. Raven drew the leg in in embarrassment and received an encouraging push from Greypony in return.

The German clan master's whiskers twitched in amusement and he stepped back to allow his companions to greet them as well.

If it hadn't been for the four additional cats hiding in the bushes behind them, Raven might even have considered this a better start than he'd had with Mistwalker. The threat in his back didn't sit well with him, though.

Unexpectedly the Germans transformed into their human shapes. That was unusual. They weren't far enough from the village to make an invitation into the clan master's hut unpractical.

Well, if that was how they wanted to play it, though, Raven decided to pretend that they were meeting on a hunting expedition. He shrugged at Greypony and changed as well. The strange clan master regarded their mantles trying and apparently failing to place the clan colours.

"Willkommen," he greeted them. "Mein Name ist Staubwolke, Meister des Waldschattenklans. Das sind Herbstschatten und Lufthauch."

Greypony sighed. "Oh brilliant! They speak German."

Raven laughed. "What did you expect? You speak Icelandic, don't you."

"Forgive me," the stranger turned towards Greypony. "I didn't realise. I am Dustcloud."

"Greypony of White Wolf's clan." Greypony introduced himself. "And my friend is Raven of the Sacred Forest clan in Scotland."

"Northeners!" the black and white growled.

"If I remember correctly, the Scots should be Southeners," Dustcloud corrected.

"Indeed," Raven confirmed. "We have put aside those differences in the interest of all our people. There are too few of us left to hold foolish grudges over minor differences. We are trying to re-establish communication lines between the clans and determine how many are left."

"Communication lines with Scotland and," Dustcloud glanced demonstratively at Greypony. "Iceland?"

"We are still trying to work out how many clans are left and where," Greypony offered. "So far we've had more luck with the Northener clans, but we were hoping that you could help us ..."

"What ever gave you the idea to start your search here of all places?" Dustcloud snapped. "Why not start in Ireland or England?"

"I did actually," Raven explained calmly. "From what I have seen so far there are no clans left in Britain."

"Stonehenge?" the grey asked obviously surprised.

"Is what led us here," Raven said still outwardly calm. "A stray told us the last surviving clan members fled to the continent and joined a clan in Germany or France. We assumed that that was you."

"No," Dustcloud shook his head. "Waldschatten is a unified clan from the remainders of the German clans. It does not include any foreigners, nor do we accept strays anymore. They bring nothing but bad luck."

"How long have the German clans been united then?" Greypony asked.

"A little over forty years."

"I suppose they must have gone to France then," Raven offered hoping to pacify the German cats. He wondered whether all the southern clans would be this nervous and suspicious of strangers.

"It is a bad thing, if Stonehenge is without guardians," commented the dark grey.

"That is no business of ours," the black and white snapped at him. "We have more than enough problems here and Stonehenge is far away. Let it be their problem." She frowned at Raven and Greypony indicating them with her head as she would in cat shape.

Raven wondered how much time she actually spent in her human form. She didn't seem to be used to wearing it.

"We are planning to host a meeting for the remaining clan masters there once we have found a sufficient number," Greypony explained in an attempt to distract the two before it could turn into an argument.

It was a necessary step judging from the way the grey looked at the black and white and most likely an instinctive reaction born from Greypony's years of leading his clan, but Raven wished he had controlled the impulse. These were Dustcloud's people and it was Dustcloud's place to step in. He hoped the German hadn't taken offence, but in human shape it was hard to judge his mood.

"You expect Lord Dustcloud to travel all the way to England?" the black and white turned on Greypony. "That's out of the question!"

"It would most likely be only a single time to discuss our race's future together," Raven assured her. "It would be helpful to hear all the clan masters' opinions and owl exchange does not seem practical for that."

It was the title even more than the aggressive tone that surprised him. The formal address of Lord and Lady was normally used only by humans, though cats did use it in some highly formal situations. It didn't fit in with her rather forward manner.

"We do not travel," Dustcloud explained stepping demonstratively between the black and white and the visitors. "The risk of being caught is too big and a single cat is enough to lead the Christians back to our clan."

He too retained his cat mannerisms in human form. Either this clan was in the habit of using human shape only in emergencies or their avoidance of contact had left them too unfamiliar with the possibilities of human bodies to make use of them. Either way these cats did not seem to gesture with their hands or arms at all.

"But those decisions will affect all of our race," the grey argued. "Don't you think that is big enough to take the risk for? Just think of all the things we could gain! If we can rebuild the communication network between the clans, we could help each other out, maybe regain some lost ground, resettle areas we've had to abandon with new clans! We could re-establish contact with the human believers!"

"Nonsense!" the black and white hissed at him. "That would be suicide. We have to protect that which is left. Going after impossible dreams will only get us killed."

"But what are we protecting?" the grey returned almost as fiercely. "All we ever do is survive and hide. What are we surviving for? What is our mission in life? We are supposed to be guardians of magical sites and their beings, but all we're guarding is ourselves."

"We have nothing else left to guard," Dustcloud said more calmly. "So we are preserving our race and traditions for the future when perhaps we might have a chance to rebuild."

"Well, perhaps that future is now, perhaps this is our one chance."

"It's too dangerous, you fool!" hissed the black and white. "There are still too many Christians. They are too strong."

"And how is that ever going to change, if we never do anything about it?" The grey was growing more passionate the more they argued the matter. "Now is the moment to act, before everything our ancestors protected for centuries is destroyed completely!"

"Enough!" ordered Dustcloud unexpectedly and both cats fell silent right away. "We will discuss this in private and in the presence of the entire clan. Raven and Greypony have not come here to listen to us argue."

"You must forgive us," he continued in a slightly softer tone to the visitors. "This comes very unexpected. We have never considered the possibility of such an offer and are unsure of our position. A big decision like this should be carefully weighed. Therefore I ask you to meet us again in a few days. We will give you our decision then."

"I have to be back in Scotland on Monday morning, if I don't want our local Templar to notice my absence," Raven stated. "I understand that you do not want to rush your decision, but I would be very happy, if you could give me some result to take home tomorrow. If ..."

He didn't get any further.

"You're being watched by the Christians!" the black and white yelped and turned back into her cat-form to flee.

"He thinks I'm a human wizard," Raven rolled his eyes in a manner that was normally exclusively Snape's. "It may be a risk, but the knowledge you can gain from watching your enemy that closely is worth it."

"Ever the spy," Greypony teased him. "Raven knows what he's doing. He's already spied on dark wizards for light wizards, wizards for Catar ..."

"I am quite sure that they are not watching my every step," he assured Dustcloud. "There are humans who expect me back on Monday, though, and if I'm not the Templar is likely to overhear them talking about it. I do not usually change my plans on short notice and explained my absence as a short visit with a friend."

"You shouldn't even get close enough to humans for them to notice your presence, let alone your absences or habits," Dustcloud advised with a frown.

"We each have a very different strategy in hiding," Greypony commented. "I assure you that Raven's way works well for him and puts him in an excellent position to co-ordinate our search. You need not fear for your safety."

"I will meet you here again tomorrow evening," Dustcloud changed the topic abruptly. "I do not promise to have a decision to tell you by then, though."

"I am free to stay longer," Greypony offered just a little reluctantly. "But I also need to continue my search for the other clans. Should you wish to contact us after I have left the country the best way is to owl Raven at Hogwarts. He will know where to reach me."

"No!" snapped the black and white. "Birds aren't safe. It's much too obvious."

Dustcloud shot her a glance, then turned resolutely towards the visitors. "We will talk tomorrow," he repeated, transformed and slipped back among the trees.

His companions followed him without another word.

"It appears we are dismissed," Greypony commented.

"Our shadows are leaving as well," Raven remarked as he felt the four unseen cats behind them slip out of their hiding places and follow their leaders.

"Are you sure? I thought I felt more than one person behind us."

"Four. They just met up with the other three and are heading for the village. I'm trained to feel suppressed auras and they clearly didn't count on that, or they wouldn't have come this close. There is no fifth."

"Nervous lot, aren't they," Greypony let himself drop onto a patch of moss.

"They'll be difficult," Raven sat down more slowly. "They don't want to travel, don't want to owl and won't even invite guests into their village."

"You'd think we were enemy invaders."

"They'll most likely be unable to help us find the other Southeners as well. They don't look like they're in contact with anyone."

"Too dangerous, I bet," Greypony agreed. Should we head back then? The kitchen of the inn I'm staying at is quite good and we can get you a room for the night there as well."

"Lets," Raven agreed. "My paws are itching for a good run."

 


	17. Chapter 16: Firewheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: There's a brand new surprise character in here that will most likely be vital for the story. Why is she a surprise? Well, I didn't plan for her to exist until she walked in here, but she seemed to know what she's supposed to do.

Chapter 16: Firewheel

 

The inn was small and the food simple, but plenty and apparently prepared with a lot of love. The cook, the innkeeper's wife, served them herself and beamed at Greypony's compliments. She even gave them some free apple-pie for dessert.

The room was small, comfortable and much lighter and happier than the wizarding accommodations Raven was used to.

"I can see why you chose to play the Muggle tourist," he told Greypony as he stretched out on the bed after dinner.

"It's a nice place with nice people," Greypony agreed with a contented purr. "I'm eager to move on by now, though. We need to find a clan with actual contacts, if we are going to hold our meeting sometime this year."

"We can't abandon this group right after making contact. They will need a lot of encouragement. If all the Southener clans are like this we will have to rely mostly on the Northeners anyway."

"Have there been any news from Mistwalker?"

Raven purred happily at this. "He has confirmation of interest from Midnight of the Clifflanders and Nightsky of the Northcats and is expecting answers from two others."

"I've heard of Midnight," Greypony commented. "He looks impressive, a big black with small patches of white. Big, but soft, they say, bit of a cuddle-cat."

"We're not assembling a war-party," Raven shrugged it off. "He's eager to help and apparently quite knowledgeable in History and Geography. Maybe he can give us some suggestions where to look for the French cats. He and Nightsky appear to be old friends."

"Can't help you there, I've never heard of him."

"A young cat, Mistwalker says, still new to his position and eager to make a change."

"Like Dustcloud's overeager grey?"

Raven inspected his claws. "I haven't met Nightsky, but from Mistwalker's description it's possible. He likes him anyway and Midnight should prove to be a calming influence."

"They will most likely form an even tighter bond within the council," Greypony suggested. "Maybe to the exclusion of the others."

"As you will with Mistwalker?" Raven was still purring.

"Mistwalker and me?" Greypony laughed. "I doubt it."

"I thought you two were doing rather well."

"We got along fine during his visit, yes and he will most likely be a good political ally. We will have a lot of interests in common. Personally, though, I doubt we'll ever be close. He disapproves of my 'levity' as he calls it. I think he's a stubborn old dog."

"He does seem a little hard-headed," Raven allowed. "But he shares your language and has been a great help to us so far."

"Which I should feel happy about, I know," Greypony sighed. "But what I do feel is that I'm falling short."

Raven sat up in surprise. "How so?"

"He has brought in two clans and contacted two more while all I have found so far is one bunch of paranoid kittens who won't even let us enter their village."

"You found him."

"I always knew where he was."

"And he always knew where those four clans were. The Germans were hiding from us and they aren't actually kittens. They may not be the most impressive group, but they are our first complete Southener clan."

"You know what I meant. I . . . I'm disappointed. I had such high hopes that once I found a clan they'd lead me to the others and now that I've seen them . . ."

"We haven't actually asked them, yet, not directly. Maybe they do know where some of the others are."

"I don't think so. I have a feeling that those guys won't be any use to us at all."

Raven stopped to consider his friend. "I have never seen you so pessimistic. Ever since we first met, you've been pushing me to move forward, do more. Why so negative now?"

"I had a good feeling about you and your ideas. I still do. But I also feel that we're at a dead end here. Maybe we should just abandon these cats and visit Midnight instead. I like the idea of going to France. If we can narrow down the area, I think I know how to find them now. I've learned a lot about how to search here."

"And you have invested a lot of time and effort into finding Dustcloud and his people. Why give up just when we've made contact? They didn't welcome us with open arms. So what? They are nervous and it's a big decision to make. Give them time to get used to the thought of an international community. They might surprise you yet."

 

To their second meeting Dustcloud arrived with a young red tabby kitten instead of his disagreeable companions of the day before.

"This is Firewheel," he introduced. "She is an orphan and in need of a mentor. None of our people are able to take her so I'm giving her to you."

Firewheel hung her head and looked pathetic. Raven would have sorted her straight into Hufflepuff at a single glance.

"You will teach her and she will act as liaison between us until we have made our final decision. Firewheel may owl us, but we will not tolerate any further contact until then. We would prefer it if both of you left this region entirely."

Raven regarded the kitten. What in the world was he supposed to do with her?

"That is a gracious offer, Dustcloud," he tried to explain diplomatically. "But I already have a kitten of my own to teach as well as Greypony's kitten to watch over while he is away."

"Firewheel will not require much of your attention," Dustcloud returned. "Merely let her tag along with you. Her teaching is of little importance and can be handled by any random cat you assign. She has very little talent. Minimum knowledge will suffice."

Raven narrowed his eyes and took another good look at the kitten. What was wrong with her that Dustcloud wanted to get rid of her so desperately? He was about to straight out refuse when she suddenly lifted her head and looked at him with big, sad, blue kitten eyes. She'd be pretty, if she weren't so unkempt an unhappy.

"Has she ever met humans before? Does she know how to hide among them?" How in the world was he going to explain another new student to Albus?

"No, we do not make contact with humans. She is obedient and quiet, though. She will not attract attention."

It wasn't exactly the kind of token Raven had hoped to take back from his trip, but perhaps it was the best chance to get to know this clan he was going to get.

"Very well, though she cannot follow me everywhere. Remember that we do have a Templar at Hogwarts."

"I understand that, of course," Dustcloud nodded. "Just keep her informed of any relevant events and we will contact her when we have reached a decision."

He left soon after that leaving the kitten behind without even a final lick farewell. It didn't give Raven much hope for the German clan's decision.

"He left us a member of his clan as a token of his trust," Greypony commented.

Raven wondered just how obvious his disappointment must be on his face that Greypony had noticed.

"A member he desperately wanted to get rid of," Raven amended.

"I'm not a clan member," Firewheel whispered eyes fixed on the ground.

"You're not?" Greypony asked surprised. "Then what clan do you belong to?"

"None," she admitted ducking as if expecting to be hit over the head. "I don't belong anywhere."

"But you were born into their clan, weren't you?" Raven asked.

She shook her head. "My mother was a stray who abandoned me here when the clan refused to adopt her. They couldn't just leave me to die, but it is against clan rules to adopt strays. So they decided to keep me until I was old enough to look after myself."

"And now they saw their chance to dump you early," Raven nodded. The case was quite clear to him.

"They wouldn't," Greypony shook his head. "They raised you like one of their own. They must love you."

Firewheel shook her head. "They hate me. I'm clumsy and stupid and worthless. I'm so sorry you have to put up with me."

Raven sighed. "Well, I'm a teacher. Raising other people's kittens is what I do. If you were used to pretending to be human, all I'd need would be a story to explain where I found you."

"Muggle born runaway from an orphanage," Greypony suggested. “I found her and asked you to take care of her until I can take her home. My clan won’t have a problem adopting another kitten, especially one almost grown.”

“Taking care of her now is exactly the problem, though,” Raven pointed out. “I could teach her along with Rascal, but how am I going to hide her from the Templar? Or Albus for that matter?”

Greypony was silent for a moment.

“I’m a fool,” he said then. “You just got a free female kitten to go with your male one and I’m offering to take her off your hands.”

Raven blinked. More members was exactly what his clan needed, if it was going to survive, but they didn’t even have a village left for them to live in for Salazar’s sake! She was of Hogwarts age, though.

“How old are you, Firewheel?”

“Sixteen winters.”

She looked younger. He suspected that her birthday was in autumn and decided to tell Albus that she was fifteen.

“Do you have a human name?”

“Foundling? That’s what they called me before I became Firewheel.”

Raven regarded her. “Fiona,” he suggested. “Fiona Wheeler. That sounds a lot like your real name, so you’ll find it easier to get used to.”

“It’s an English name,” Greypony pointed out. “How do you plan to explain her German accent, if she’s an English girl?”

Raven suppressed a groan. How indeed? But giving her a German name would bring up a whole new set of problems.

“She doesn’t exist to either the Muggle or Wizarding world and I can’t even present a mother to support whatever story I come up with.”

“I don’t suppose Dumbledore could use his influence and money to buy the ministry’s belief?” Greypony asked hopefully.

“He isn’t rich and he’d attract too much attention. He doesn’t have Lucius’ style at discretion.” Raven sighed, then brightened suddenly. “Lucius! That’s it! Come on!”

They ran back through the forest, Firewheel keeping pace with the two adults with apparent ease. She’d make a fine hunter someday, Raven suspected. Maybe she was even skilled enough to feed herself now. Even if she didn’t have any talent for magic at all and Raven had a feeling that Dustcloud’s claims about her should be taken with a grain of salt, a hunter was exactly what would be needed to balance out Rascal’s lack of nature skills. If Firewheel was only barely suitable for priesthood, Rascal could be the next high priest of the clan.

He stopped in surprise at the realisation that he was indeed making plans for the future of his clan. A future that he’d been sure didn’t exist this morning.

Firewheel and Greypony shot past him then turned to look at him quizzically.

Raven spread his whiskers in a happy cat-smile, pinned Firewheel with both front-paws and gave her a good, long lick welcome. They might be in a hurry, but for some things one just had to make time.

 

 

Firewheel received a lot of curious and disapproving stares when they walked into the wizarding pub, but it couldn’t be helped. Severus went straight to the bar and requested the use of a bathtub and hairbrush.

“Sir?” the young man behind the counter asked uncomprehendingly.

“We’re not a bathhouse,” a witch who was probably his mother snapped from the kitchen door.

“Please?” Greypony treated her to his most charming smile. “Poor Fiona here has been living alone in the forest for days.”

“She ran away from home,” Severus added. “Apparently her Muggle parents were so ashamed she was a witch that they kept her locked away in the basement for years.”

“Oh, du armes Kind!” the witch exclaimed and rushed to Firewheel’s side. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. You two just sit down and eat something while I get her cleaned up. Heinz, kümmere dich um die Herrschaften aus England!”

“We can’t stay,” Raven told the young man who seemed to answer to Heinz. “We have to take Fiona to the ministry in Berlin as soon as possible. We just wanted to give her the chance to clean up a bit before she meets with her new case-worker.”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll tell my mother to hurry.”

The kindly witch wouldn’t be rushed, though. She spent over an hour bathing Firewheel, cut and brushed her hair, found her some old, but neat robes to wear and insisted she eat a good meal before she would let them use her floo.

That turned out to be harder than it sounded. Firewheel had used a knife and spoon before and managed to copy the use of a fork after Greypony demonstrated it, but it still looked awkward.

“Oh, the poor dear!” the witch exclaimed when she noticed. “They must have made her eat with her fingers! What horrible people to treat their own child like that.”

Raven nodded. “That’s why we’re taking her to the ministry,” he explained. “They have experienced social workers and psychologists who will help her adapt to normal life before being placed with a good foster family.”

That should prevent any of the town’s concerned inhabitants from attempting to keep Firewheel. He was glad that he didn’t understand the conversations going on around them. Firewheel would probably be the talk of the town for days.

They were kind and helpful people, even though they cost them a lot of time. It was early afternoon by the time they finally reached the international floo station in Berlin and its public fireplaces.

It was possible to make international firecalls from any connected fireplace, but Raven hadn’t dared to call Lucius from the pub. Their fireplace had been right there in the common room and there had been too many curious people about. Just because he didn’t understand their language didn’t have to mean that they couldn’t understand him. Most of them had required him to speak more slowly than he normally would, but there could have been someone who was more fluent.

 

“Lord Snape!” the house-elf squealed excitedly. “What canses …”

“I need to talk to your master!” Severus snapped. “Now!”

Firewheel watched wide-eyed and even Greypony looked surprised, but there was no time to explain himself as Lucius appeared moments later.

“Severus? Has something happened to Draco?”

“Oh no, Rascal’s fine,” Raven assured his old friend. “I need to call in a favour, though.”

“I don’t owe you any favours,” Lucius replied automatically.

“Then I’ll just stop teaching Rascal, since …”

“Draco!”

“Whatever.” Severus shrugged to indicate that it didn’t really make a difference to him.

“Alright, alright, so just what is it you’d want me to do for you, if I did owe you a favour?”

“Nothing big,” Severus assured him. “Something I’m sure you’ve done a hundred times before in the service of your lord. I suppose I could just go to the ministry and …”

“What do you need, Severus?” Lucius growled.

He probably understood that it was just an empty threat. He had as much dirt on Raven as Raven did on him and fewer scruples, but it was in his interest to keep their relationship friendly. With Dumbledore involved there was no telling just what Raven could get away with, and how satisfying would it be to take the Catar down with him, if he got the Dementor’s kiss? Not to mention that Raven could so easily betray Draco as well.

“I need,” Raven smirked at him. “To bring a teenaged witch to Hogwarts from Germany before breakfast tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s a bit short notice, but claim a family emergency. Really Severus, you shouldn’t need me to tell you that.”

“She has neither papers, nor any experience with humans.”

“You want a false passport?”

“And a story to tell the forger.”

Lucius sighed. “I’ll be there in an hour,” he announced and cut the connection.

“A Death Eater, Raven?” Greypony asked softly.

“Yes, that’d be Rascal’s father,” Raven stated. “Charming, isn’t he? He will charm, buy and confuse the ministry officials for us. All we still have to worry about is Hogwarts.”

“How about we just tell them that Firewheel doesn’t speak English? Then she can’t attend any classes.”

“And why did I bring her to Hogwarts if not to be taught?” Raven shook his head. “Bad idea.”

 

As it turned out Lucius needed less than one hour to convince the British ministry that he had urgent and unexpected business in Germany. Forty-five minutes after ending his conversation with Raven he stepped out of the international floo in Berlin.

“Lucius,” Raven greeted him with a nod. “Meet Greypony and Firewheel. Or Fiona Wheeler, if you prefer.”

Lucius regarded the kitten so intently that she stepped back to hide behind Greypony.

“I suppose she’ll pass,” he judged finally. “Is this some sort of cat-convention then?”

“No, we just ran into some distant relatives by accident. Firewheel is a … token of their friendship.” Raven hadn’t wanted to explain their presence at all.

“You got here surprisingly fast,” Greypony flashed a smile at Lucius. “Whatever did you tell your ministry?”

Lucius grinned like the Catholics’ devil. “That I’m going to meet a niece I never knew I had. Fiona,” he explained. “Is the illegitimate daughter of my first wife’s brother, you see. When by pure coincidence Severus found out and heard that her mother has died recently he contacted me and being the loving family man I am I immediately raced to the child’s aid. The poor dear will require a new home and a good education, of course and since I am appalled at how badly lacking her education has been so far, I have decided that it will be best to transfer her to Hogwarts, the same esteemed institution that I have already entrusted with my own son’s education.”

“So far, so good, but why is that so urgent that it can’t wait until she gets a passport through the usual channels?” Raven challenged.

“Ah, but my dear friend, I am of course eager to get to know the dear child, but I have important business back at home. It would be so much more practical not to have to floo between the two countries twice a day.”

 

Indeed with the addition of a substantial amount of galleons the German authorities were soon convinced and the three of them returned to Scotland at eight the next morning.

“I refuse to make your excuses for Dumbledore, though,” Lucius declared as they stepped out of the floo. “The old coot is your problem. Your new pet has already cost me a lot more than I could ever owe you.”

“Why Lucius, such hard words for what might be your son’s future wife.”

Lucius shot around to glare at Raven. “Draco must not marry, nor have children, ever! The Malfoy name cannot afford …”

“Not under the Malfoy name, no, but under the name of the Sacred Forest clan Rascal is free to have as many kittens as he wants. I can lend them my name, if you prefer, or let them be Wheelers. Human names mean little to us.”

Lucius glared. “I warn you, kitty. If you cause any damage to the Malfoy line …”

“You are the one who put it at risk by your marriage,” Raven reminded him. “Your son’s human identity is ell established and tied to your’s. We have no reason to carry the Malfoy name into the next generation, though.”

He was about to turn and walk away, but Lucius held out his hand to stop him.

“Your names have that little meaning to you?” the wizard asked.

“Your names have no meaning to us at all,” he explained. The man had to realise that he was dealing with a completely different race and culture, didn’t he? “They are masks we put on to hide who we really are, nothing more. Our true names mean a lot to us, but they pertain to the individual. We do not pass them on through the generations the way you do.”

“Draco … Rascal … was always proud of being a Malfoy,” Lucius stated.

“His kittens will be proud of their clan and forest,” Raven assured him. “They will never understand what it means to be a Malfoy.”

“What is it with wizards and their names?” Firewheel asked him as they walked over to the national floo.

“Nothing. At least not with most wizards. Only the purebloods … they …” This wasn’t easy to explain. “All their history and tradition lies in who their parents and the parents of their parents were. They tell their children tales of their ancestor’s deeds the way we tell our lore.”

“I thought they too have their religion and that one god they serve?”

“They do,” Raven confirmed. “But not all of them are priests and those who are aren’t permitted to have children.”

Firewheel stared at him in obvious confusion. “Why not?”

“Because they are expected to give all their love and effort to the service of their god. Children would detract from that.”

“But that is so wrong!”

“It is their culture. Now, here’s your floo powder,” Raven instructed. “Your destination is Hogwarts, Madame Pomfrey’s office. Wait beside the fireplace until I arrive. Do not leave the office under any circumstances and try to behave like a human. Don’t do anything cat-like. If anyone speaks to you, say: ‘Not understand.’”

She’d had no problem using the floo three times before, but each time there had been someone to go before and after her. Much as it worried Raven to send her ahead into an unknown situation, leaving her to make her way alone might be even worse. What if she mispronounced her destination and ended up elements knew where? Without knowing exactly what mistake she’d made he had no way to find her again and he didn’t trust her to find her way back to him on her own.

 

Poppy Pomfrey looked up in surprise when an unfamiliar girl suddenly popped into her fireplace. The girl stepped out, saw her, yelped in apparent fear and backed into the wall beside the fireplace.

“Hello young lady,” the nurse greeted her trying to seem as welcoming as possible. “And who might you be?”

“N … n … not understand?”

“Your name, dear,” Poppy repeated. “Who are you?”

“Not understand,” the girl repeated with a little more confidence.

“Poppy Pomfrey,” Poppy said pointing to herself, then at the girl.

“Not understand.”

A laugh came from the fireplace and then Severus Snape stepped out. “To this question you may answer ‘Fiona Wheeler’”

The girl mewed and threw herself at the Potions Master hiding her face in his robes.

“Another kitten, Severus?”

“It couldn’t be helped,” Severus claimed. “I need an excuse to keep her away from the Templar, though. Firewheel has never learned how to act human.”

Poppy stared at them. No, if Fiona always acted like this, there was no way she could live in a dorm full of teenage girls and not attract attention.

“I … I suppose I could come up with a medical condition that wouldn’t allow her to live with the other students. Something … Oh yes! She has very bad asthma which can cause her breathing to stop. If it happens during the day, she can take a potion for it, but she always has to be monitored while asleep. That way she can live here and only join the other students during classes.”

“But what about Religion classes?”

“She reacts particularly badly to incense, which always clings to a priest’s robes,” Poppy suggested. “I will therefore advise that she is excused from Mass and has private Religion lessons with one of the other teachers. She is to avoid contact with Sir Fulko at all costs.”

 

 

Ten minutes later, twenty past eight, Severus Snape walked into the great hall for breakfast, wished everybody a good morning with his usual glare and sat down beside the headmaster.

“I need to talk to you before classes, if possible, Albus,” he said casually.

“Oh?” Dumbledore twinkled at him happily. “What’s so important it can’t wait?”

“We have a new student,” Severus said making his best sour face at the prospect.

“Another one? Right in the middle of the school year? That is highly unusual.”

“She is Lucius Malfoy’s illegitimate niece,” Severus reported. “He only just found out about her existence and wants her educated at Hogwarts. Apparently her teaching has been badly neglected so far.”

“What school has she attended? Durmstrang?”

“She was home-schooled by her mother from what I’ve heard,” Severus sneered. “And no, the mother wasn’t at all qualified, nor does the girl seem to have any sort of social skills. According to Lucius she has a medical condition, because of which her mother kept her very isolated. She is scared of people and speaks very little English. I have no idea what we’re supposed to do with her, but that’s Malfoy for you.”

“Oh, the poor dear!” Professor Sprout exclaimed. Somehow she reminded Severus of a German innkeeper. “What sort of medical condition?”

“What do I know? I’m no healer. You can ask Poppy, though. I left the child with her for assessment.”

“Thank you, Severus,” the headmaster beamed at him. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

Severus sneered at him. “It was the fastest way to get rid of her.”

“You could have just told me it was Malfoy who asked you to go to Germany,” Dumbledore switched the topic.

“Believe me, Albus, I’d have told you, if he had. It was pure coincidence that we met at the floo station in Berlin. I really did go there to see Grey.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter why you left, your students are a disaster,” Professor Vector complained. “They …”

“Thought they’d use my absence to do everything they wouldn’t normally dare try?” Severus laughed. “Of course that was to be expected. It takes a while to teach them proper respect. Too much for you?”

“Hardly,” Vector returned. “But keeping them in check was a full-time job. I don’t know how you do it for a whole school year.”

“It’s simple,” Severus said casually. “I set the lines for the first years when they arrive and show them what happens when they cross them early on. They don’t test me as much once they know me.”

 

Poppy had done great work, Raven had to admit. When Albus had called her and asked to see Fiona Wheeler, even he had been surprised at how pale and sickly the girl looked in her black Hogwarts robes and with a protective mask over her mouth and nose.

“She carries her asthma potion with her at all times,” the nurse explained to the headmaster. “But it might be safer, if each of her teachers kept a dose in their classroom in case of an emergency and at least for now she should keep her protective mask on whenever she is among people. Once she gets used to Hogwarts it might turn out to be unnecessary, but the stress and excitement of being in a foreign country with so many strange people about, a different climate and different food are likely to aggravate her asthma.”

She will have to be excused from Flying of course,” Albus agreed. It wasn’t the first time he had to deal with an asthmatic student, after all.

“As well as Mass and Religion,” Poppy demanded.

Severus feigned surprise. “Since when is Religion bad for asthma?”

“Not Religion itself, but the incense burned in religious ceremonies,” Poppy explained. “Miss Wheeler’s file shows that she reacts especially badly to that.”

“There is no incense burned in the Religion classroom, though,” Albus pointed out eyes narrowing at Firewheel.

“It clings to Sir Fulko’s robes,” the nurse said with a disapproving frown. “Sometimes he smells so strongly of it even I find it uncomfortable to breathe next to him.”

“She could attend Julian’s classes, then?” the headmaster asked.

“But those are for first and second years,” Poppy argued. “She is too old for them.”

“Indeed,” Albus nodded, then smiled at the girl. “How old are you, Fiona?”

“Fourteen,” Firewheel lied to Raven’s surprise.

Poppy must have prepared her for the question, but why make her two years younger than she actually was? She was small enough to pass for a tall fourteen-year-old, but Raven would almost have preferred to put her into sixth year then send her off to Iceland in two years. She could have lived there safe from discovery until Rascal graduated and they were ready to re-settle the Sacred Forest.

“Well, Fiona’s English seems to be a little better than Loki’s, but she too will need time to get used to the language and you said that her education so far has been lacking. She will probably be quite a bit behind our fourth years. Perhaps it will be best to have her start a year lower as well. I hear the third years have been very welcoming and helpful to Loki.”

“Who has a very different personality, though,” Severus pointed out. It didn’t seem too good an idea to amass kittens in one place. As a group they were much more likely to attract attention than, if they could blend in among human friends.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Albus twinkled at him. “There are a lot of very nice children in that year and I dare say Fiona isn’t likely to be sorted into your house.”

“Talking about sorting,” Poppy threw in. “Can we do that now? I would like to have a word with her new head of house, before they introduce her to her classmates.”

Albus hesitated, but then shook his head. “No, we shouldn’t hide her from the student body any more than absolutely necessary. We will sort her before dinner tonight.”

“Very well,” Severus suggested as if he didn’t care at all. “Now, if you would please excuse me, I have a class to teach and asthma potion to brew.”

He hoped that Poppy would be able to prepare Firewheel for having dinner with a horde of human children as well as she had for the meeting with the headmaster. Raven himself would need all the time with her he could steal today to teach her how to at least pretend to use a wand to do magic. She would have to be able to convincingly perform at least the most basic spells by the time of her first Charms lesson. Filius Flittwick would want to assess her knowledge, asthma or not.

 

“Oh, look at her!” Ron exclaimed as the new student walked in. “She’s wearing a mask to hide her face. God she must be ugly!”

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed horrified.

“You shouldn’t use God’s name in vain,” his sister Ginny scolded. “Besides, that’s a very cruel thing to say.”

“Didn’t you hear Dumbledore?” Neville added. “She has very bad asthma. The mask must be charmed to filter out all the dust and hair and whatever else causes asthma attacks.”

He’d learned a lot about these things from Madame Pomfrey during his allergy tests.

“I think she looks scared,” commented Harry. “I bet she’s sorted into Hufflepuff.”

“Oh yeah?” Hermione was clearly having a bad day. “Why so?”

“Well, because she’s obviously a coward.”

Hermione looked furious. “Funny, I don’t remember ever hearing anything about Hufflepuff being the house of cowards. I thought it was the house of the hard-working and loyal.”

“And I was scared out of my mind when we were sorted and still ended up in Gryffindor,” Neville added. “This girl is up there all alone in a foreign school in a foreign country waiting for a talking hat to decide her fate. Of course she’s nervous.”

“I wouldn’t be,” Ron claimed. “I’m afraid of nothing.”

“Only Snape,” Ginny commented.

“And Slytherins,” Harry added.

“Spiders,” said Hermione.

“Oh look, now she’s putting on the hat!” someone squealed at the Hufflepuff table. “Oh, I hope she’s in our house!”

“See,” said Hermione. “That’s the spirit.”

They watched as the tall, pale girl sat on the stool with the hat over her head. It didn’t look as big on her as it did on the first years, but it was still obviously too large.

“Well, …” Ron said when nothing happened.

“Looks like she’s hard to sort,” Hermione stated with satisfaction. “Not such an obvious Hufflepuff as you thought after all.”

“She might still be a Hufflepuff,” Harry insisted.

“Maybe,” Hermione allowed. “But if she is, then because she is hard-working and loyal.”

“Why is it taking so long?” Ron whined. “I’m hungry.”

“Is that all you care about?” Hermione fumed. “Poor Fiona is sitting up there awaiting her fate.”

“Now you’re exaggerating,” Neville said. “Of course whatever house she’s put in will welcome her with open arms.”

“But it’s up to the hat to find the house she’ll be happiest in,” Hermione argued.

“Yes, imagine being put into Slytherin,” Harry shuddered.

“Slytherin isn’t that bad,” Hermione snapped. “At least all the Slytherins are quite happy there.”

“Yeah, because they’re all evil gits,” Ron agreed.

“Are not!” Hermione hissed. “They are just normal people.”

“Says who?” Harry asked.

“Loki,” Hermione admitted. “What? Don’t look at me like that. He was reading up about the founders in the library and asked me for help with the text.”

“Idiot,” Ron snorted.

“Oh really? Just how well do you read Icelandic, then?” Hermione challenged. “I think it’s amazing that he’s actually trying to read English texts beyond what’s required for classes.”

“So you met the new kid,” Neville made an effort to be tolerant. “What’s he like?”

Hermione thought for a moment. “Very determined. Fascinated with m … magical races and ancient customs. And very curious about our country and culture. He didn’t bat an eye when I told him I’m Muggle born. Just asked about what it was like to come into the wizarding world and some things about Muggles.”

Ron glared at them both.

“Maybe it’s taking so long, because she doesn’t belong here at all,” he said suddenly. “Maybe she doesn’t fit any house. Or maybe she’s a squib and the hat doesn’t know how to react to that.”

“Or maybe you’re an idiot,” Hermione hissed.

“Gryffindor!” the hat announced moments later.

“Yes! Hermione exclaimed.

Professor McGonagall proudly removed the hat and the new girl got up and stared at the cheering and applauding students.

“Here Fiona!” Hermione jumped up and waved at her. “Over here! Come sit with us!”

Neville, who’d been sitting beside her quickly scooted over pushing Harry away until there was enough room for another person between him and Hermione.

“This is great,” he whispered to his best friend. “If Hermione and Fiona make friends, she won’t have to depend on Ron anymore.”

Apparently Ron had similar thoughts. He glared daggers at poor Fiona as she slipped shyly into the seat.

“Hi Fiona!” Hermione was completely oblivious to Ron’s reaction. “I’m Hermione and that’s my friends Ron with his sister Ginny and Neville and over there’s Harry. Except for Ginny we’re all in your year, so if you need any help finding your classes, just ask us.”

“Hi,” Fiona echoed softly. Apparently this was all a bit too much for her.

“You’d do best to ask Hermione, if you have problems with the classes themselves, though,” Neville added. “She’s the best student at almost everything and always willing to help.”

“Oh, not everything,” Hermione denied modestly. “I’m doing okay in most subjects, though and I can explain words you don’t know. I mean, Professor Dumbledore said that you’re from Germany, so you’re probably not used to studying from English books.”

“I didn’t know there was a wizarding school in Germany,” Neville said. “Didn’t you go to Durmstrang or Beauxbattons?”

“My mother teached me,” Fiona whispered.

“Oh great, she can’t even speak proper English!” Ron exclaimed. “It’s taught, not teached, you idiot!”

Fiona ducked down over her freshly materialised bowl of soup.

“You’re the only idiot I see here, Ron. Fiona’s English is great.” Hermione patted Fiona’s arm consolingly. “Never mind Ron. He doesn’t speak a second language at all and has no idea how difficult it can be. Teach is an irregular verb. Those must be hard to remember, if you haven’t grown up with them.”

“So why did your mother decide to send you to Hogwarts now?” Neville asked.

“Mother is dead. My uncle sended me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Neville blushed. “I didn’t mean to …”

“I live with my aunt and uncle, too,” Harry said.

“So why did the hat take so long to sort you?” Hermione asked quickly. “Couldn’t it make up its mind?”

“It wanted to say Ravenclaw, but then it said better not. It said maybe Hufflepuff, but they … they would crush me? And I do not fit in Slytherin. The Professor said that too.”

“I almost became a Ravenclaw myself,” Hermione told her. “But the hat never suggested Hufflepuff. You must have a lot of qualities to fit into three houses. No wonder the hat found it hard to sort you.”

“Or maybe she just doesn’t have any very strong qualities at all,” Ron suggested. “And we just got settled with her, because we were the last house left.”

“Why don’t you just shut up and eat your soup before it gets cold, Ron?” Harry suggested. “Nobody’s interested in your theories and I thought you said you were hungry.”

“Don’t listen to Ron, Fiona,” Neville advised. “He’s always wrong.”

Fiona nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced. Hermione felt terrible for her. Here she was in a strange country, surrounded by strange people who spoke a foreign language. She'd just lost her mother and knew nothing about life in boarding school. Most likely she was used to the comfortable atmosphere of living in a small family. She had to feel so very lost and alone and Ron knew nothing better to do than insult her ever time he opened his mouth.

"Ignore Ron," she said. "And try the soup. Hogwarts' food is delicious."

Fiona nodded again, carefully removed her protective mask and began to eat very slowly. The poor thing! She was so nervous she had to force herself to swallow, even though she agreed that the soup was very good. The steak that was today's main curse didn't seem to appeal to her at all, though. She just finished her soup slowly and methodically then picked an apple for pudding. That was the first time she lightened up a little.

"Oh fruit!" she exclaimed in her shy, almost inaudibly soft voice. "I love fruit."

Hermione decided not to push her to try the treacle tart after all. Her parents certainly would have agreed with Fiona's choice.

 

At the head table Raven watched the events with worry. He could barely believe that Firewheel had been sorted into Gryffindor. He'd been so sure she was a Hufflepuff.

"Worried, Severus?" Albus asked. "Fiona seems to be doing fine with her new classmates."

Damn, his mask must have slipped. Albus had to be more right than he knew, though. Poppy had spent almost two hours teaching Firewheel how to fake an asthma attack, if she needed to get away from the other students.

"You know Lucius, Albus," he presented the first explanation that came to mind. She's an illegitimate child of a relative by marriage."

"And therefore not a Malfoy," the headmaster countered. "It actually works in her favour under the circumstances."

"He has gone to unusual lengths to bring her here," Severus said.

"Probably a political move," Albus suggested. "He wants everybody to know how he's taken pity on the poor, sick orphan and is ensuring the very best future for her."

"If he gets angry abut her sorting, just tell him how tolerant he'll look as the loving uncle of a Gryffindor," Poppy suggested shrewdly. "It'll disprove all claims of prejudice against Gryffindor house."

"Maybe, but I still think she'd have done better in Hufflepuff," Severus said. "She's such a shy, quiet child. Gryffindors are usually wild and loud."

"Not all of them," Minerva McGonagall argued. "Look at Ms Granger or Mr. Longbottom for example."

"And as luck would have it those two seem to be the very first people Fiona is going to make friends with."

"The clumsy fool and the know-it-all," Severus sneered.

"Clumsy, but kind-hearted," Professor Sprout defended her favourite Gryffindor. "And conscientious. Remember how he came to you to report Mr. Weasley's plan to mess up his potion with garlic? He's a responsible young fellow."

"He isn't the worst Gryffindor," Severus allowed. "And I suppose Granger will assure that Ms Wheeler pays at least some rudimentary attention to her studies. She has a lot to catch up upon."

"They'll be good friends for her, I'm sure," Albus assured him.

To be honest Raven didn't even doubt that. He just didn't like the idea of Firewheel being this close to Ron Weasley. The boy was from a highly Catholic family and had a tendency to see plots everywhere. What if he realised, or even coincidentally theorised that she was a Catar? Saint Aignon was less than pleased with the boy's misuse of a crucifix for a prank on a teacher, but that didn't guarantee that he wouldn't check such a story.


	18. Chapter 17: Letters and Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: This one was written in three parts with several months in between. Once RL interfered and at one point I simply got stuck and then RL got hectic.

Chapter 17: Letters and Rituals

 

"I have a surprise for you," Raven informed Rascal and Loki when they arrived in his office for detention.

"Does that have anything to do with the fact you didn't even come to greet us yesterday?" Rascal asked with a distrustful side-glance at Firewheel who was practising basic charms in the corner.

The girl seemed to like corners. She was almost alarmingly good at keeping out of people's way.

"Firewheel?" Raven called out to her. "Come greet Rascal and Loki."

"Are they ..." she stepped closer hesitantly obviously unsure how to react.

"Rascal is Lucius' son," Raven nodded towards the boy. "Among humans you're supposed to call him Cousin Draco. Loki is Greypony's kitten and not part of our clan. You can call him Loki all the time, I suppose. He is Draco's best friend, so the humans will assume that's how you know him."

"I'm Firewheel," she smiled shyly at the other kittens. "I'm pretty bad at just about everything, but I promise to be a good friend and very loyal to the clan as long as I'm here."

Rascal blinked. "You adopted an asthmatic kitten?"

"She isn't really asthmatic," Raven snapped. "That's just part of her human role. She has had no contact with humans before so we needed an excuse to hide her as much as possible."

"So she gets to be asthmatic and I just get to speak bad English," Loki said with a slight pout.

Teenagers. Raven sighed.

"You get to be in Slytherin," he countered. "Firewheel had to be sorted."

"Yes, how did we end up with a Gryffindor kitten anyway?" Draco frowned.

"Not all Gryffindors are completely bad," Raven admitted. "I have to say that I was a little surprised, though. I thought Firewheel was an obvious Hufflepuff."

"The hat said Ravenclaw," Firewheel whispered. "But that it was too dangerous."

Raven nodded. "Ravenclaw has never been fond of our kind. Most of the Templar grand-masters were Ravenclaws. Now be good and sniff noses like well-mannered kittens."

The boys frowned at him as they transformed, but did obey. This was unexpected. They'd been more than willing to let other kittens join their games in Iceland. Why this sudden dislike of a sweet, shy kitten in desperate need of acceptance? Maybe it would have been better, if he'd prepared them to deal with her problems before introducing them, but it had never occurred to him that such a precaution might be necessary.

Things looked a little better once they saw Firewheel in her cat-form. The kittens rubbed heads and Loki even licked her side a little when he noticed her nervous tail twitching.

"We'll spend today on the study of humans and how to hide among them," Raven announced once it seemed that the kittens had had enough time to familiarise themselves with each other's smells.

"What!" yelped Rascal. "But you promised to teach us partial transformation!"

As if he had the faintest chance of mastering that before he could manage a halfway elegant full transformation.

"We'll have to postpone that," he told the disappointed kitten. "It is a very useful skill, but a lot of cats live out their lives without ever attempting it. Pretending to be human is a survival skill that we need every day and that Firewheel has never been taught."

"But I know how to pretend to be human!" Rascal whined. "I've been doing it all my life!"

"So maybe you'd like to share some of your expertise with Firewheel," Raven prodded. "As Loki has been sharing his knowledge of manners and rituals with you?"

They were a frighteningly diverse class to teach. If he'd had the time to spare, he'd have preferred to teach each of them separately. Human raised Rascal needed to focus on learning Catar culture and physical skills as well as wilderness survival. Clan-born Loki was interested in the differences between Northern and Southern philosophy and human culture. The first went over Rascal's head, the second bored him. What Raven had barely been able to acknowledge at all so far was the advanced magical and ritual training that was appropriate preparation for priesthood at Loki's age.

Oh well, at worst Loki'd fall a year behind in his training. It could be seen to once Greypony returned to take him home. It was nothing compared to what Rascal had to catch up to.

And now here was Firewheel, as far behind in human culture as Rascal was in the Catar one, but already a master at wilderness survival and, from what Raven had seen running through the forest in Germany, far ahead even of Loki concerning physical skills. She might not think much of herself, but Raven had met adults who didn't transform nearly as smoothly. She was probably ready to learn partial transformation. All the required basics were there.

Judging from how Dustcloud had treated her, her magical training had probably been badly neglected so far and she also hadn't shown the social skills normal for a clan-raised kitten of her age. She was much too shy and withdrawn.

He'd assumed that that was at least partially due to her natural personality, but seeing her sorted into Gryffindor had raised serious doubts. Gryffindors were outgoing children. If they seemed shy, it was either an act or something had altered their behaviour. Something like traumatic experiences, as was the case with Neville Longbottom, or outright abuse, as seemed to have happened to Harry Potter. He'd never mentioned it to his co-workers, but he thought those students needed counselling.

Apparently Firewheel's outsider status in the German clan, Raven realised with a start that he didn't even know its name, had caused her to be excluded from normal social development as well as proper education.

As a teacher he was used to deal with students that were ahead or behind the rest of their class, of course, but with the kittens he was further hampered by the need for secrecy and lack of teaching material. There were no more advanced Catar classes that he could invite them to join, nor could he give them books to study from while he worked on a different subject with one of the others.

He could use Albus' quest for an alliance with the Catar as an excuse to check the relevant books out of the forbidden section of the library, of course, but they were all written by humans and not trustworthy enough to leave Rascal alone with. Loki and Firewheel would probably have managed to sort out the true and false information, but there was little in there they wouldn't already know.

Being seen reading such a book in the common room was out of the question for the kittens as well as was practising physical skills anywhere they might be seen by humans.

The only exception to that rule were books on Muggle culture. They were easily available from the library as research material or additional reading for Muggle Studies. Loki wasn't taking the elective, of course, but there was no rule saying that he couldn't check out books on the subject anyway. He'd already told Firewheel to sign up for it which she had readily agreed to seeing that it didn't require use of her still unfamiliar wand.

He just wished that there were similar books about wizarding and Catar culture. Hadn't anybody ever written an introduction into wizarding society for Muggle borns? Why wasn't there anything of the sort in the Hogwarts library? You'd think there'd be a demand for it here.

Thus he was left no choice but to try and make his lessons as diverse as possible and hope that each kitten would at least take something out of it.

He'd take them on a deep excursion into the sacred forest on Saturday, he decided. Firewheel could get to know her new home and show off her forest skills there which would hopefully give her some confidence. It would also give him a chance to get a better impression of how much Rascal's skills had improved since their first trip and Loki would enjoy exploring the forest even if he didn't learn anything new.

Well, maybe they could perform a minor ritual to honour the dead clan members. That would be educational for Loki and maybe Firewheel, if her magical education wasn't too far behind. It would be too advanced for Rascal to participate, though.

 

Firewheel and Raven were like shadows in the trees. Loki had always considered himself a good scout, but at least in this landscape those two clearly had him beaten without trying. Despite all the familiarising and practise Raven had provided him with whenever he could, he still wasn't used to dense forest. Now he understood Rascal's disappointment with the forest in Iceland. It was nothing compared to this.

Rascal himself wasn't nearly as good at this as the other two. He'd kept up with Loki for about two hours, but now he was falling behind. He tired too easily. Was that the still shorter legs, or the lazy human lifestyle taking its toll?

He'd taken only a moment to glance back at his younger friend, but it had been too much. He'd lost sight of Raven. A hasty glance around among the trees revealed neither the black panther, nor Firewheel's sleek red body.

For a moment he felt panic well up, used to the wide open Icelandic stone desert where you could almost always find your companions by sight. He cast out his cat-sense and ... They were above him?

Oh, of course! Raven and Firewheel had climbed a tree. His confusion about this action lasted only a moment until a sudden movement of the Firewheel-feeling explained it all. They were avoiding some ground level obstacle by jumping from tree to tree.

He had done that with Rascal from time to time while playing in a tree in their practice clearing, but he hadn't realised it could be more than a game. A hard lump formed in Loki's throat as he clambered up the nearest big trunk hoping that would take him closer to the others.

The tree was unfamiliar, but at least provided more solid support than a broom. Now, if only he could get into the same tree Firewheel was in, all he'd have to do was follow her route from there.

The direction she was in offered no suitable branches in jumping distance, though, so he catapulted himself into the next tree in the general direction Raven seemed to be going. He missed the branch he'd been aiming for and fell about half a metre, before he managed to grab hold of a limb strong enough to break his fall.

A pathetic "Mewl!" rang out from the tree he'd just left as he pulled himself back up and towards the trunk. His hold was still too wobbly to dare stop and look behind, but from the sound he concluded that Rascal had followed him the way he'd hoped to do with Firewheel and lost the courage for the jump when he'd seen him miss.

Belly close to the twigs he inched forward until he reached a branch that looked strong enough to sit on safely.

He wanted to lick his ruffled fur to calm his nerves, but if he stopped now, he might lose his last chance to catch up with the older cats. The trip would be much harder, if he couldn't see them. On the other hand his cat-sense would still provide a general direction that ought to prevent getting lost and one couldn't abandon a kitten mewling for help.

A look back revealed Rascal crouching in the very spot Loki had jumped from and another, possibly easier jump off point only one branch higher.

"Mew?" Loki inquired.

"Mewl!" Rascal returned.

"Mew!" Stretching his left front paw Loki pointed at the other branch.

"Mew?" Rascal probably couldn't see the route Loki was trying to suggest to him from his current angle. Back in the other tree Loki hadn't seen it either.

"Mew!" Loki pointed again tail twitching nervously.

He couldn't plot their entire travelling route like this. It would take hours even if he actually figured out how to find the best jumping spots in an unfamiliar tree.

He flicked his paw, pointed at the branch Rascal was supposed to jump to, then again at the jumping spot.

"Mew?" Rascal regarded the branch above him.

"Mew!" Loki confirmed.

Hesitantly Rascal crept back towards the trunk and up onto the higher branch.

"Mew!" Loki announced happily when he saw his friend reach the perfect jumping spot.

Rascal stopped and looked over at him. Loki pointed again. Rascal stared at the distance he was supposed to jump. His tail twitched, ears and whiskers flattened against his head in fear.

"Mewl!"

"Mew!" Loki insisted. How else was he supposed to get Rascal over into his tree? He had to jump.

Rascal crouched down fearfully.

The branch under Loki shook and he shot around to find Firewheel behind him.

"Mewl?" he asked her pointing at Rascal with his nose.

Firewheel's whiskers twitched and then the branch swung again as she pushed off. Two wide graceful jumps and she was on the branch below Rascal. Another took her behind the kitten. No cautious pulling herself up the trunk for Firewheel.

"Mewl!" Rascal whined at her.

Firewheel bent down and pushed him from behind. Loki's whiskers spread in pride as he realised that she approved of his chosen route.

Rascal crouched down, tail swishing, hind legs treading the branch until it swung like a trampoline.

Oh. Oh! What a wonderful effect! He should have realised that sooner. By using the tree's natural flexibility one could gain additional momentum for the jump.

Rascal's aim turned out to be just as bad as his own, though and the impact almost threw Loki out of his perch as well.

"Mewl!" Rascal complained once again as he dangled from a branch by his front claws.

Firewheel followed him with an almost casual jump and nudged him back up.

Then she regarded him with a measuring glance, raised her tail high like a banner and walked demonstratively down the branch. It was meant for Rascal, but Loki too followed her happily.

The next jump Firewheel picked for them was a lot easier and Loki sailed across feeling confident in his jumping abilities once more. Rascal however was still nervous after his almost-fall and once again Firewheel had to go back and nudge him. At this rate they'd never reach the village.

Apparently Raven had come to the same conclusion. He picked up Rascal and carried him the rest of the way, which was both a relief and embarrassing as it was now Loki holding them back with his clumsy jumping, but at least he did manage the trip under his own power.

"And I thought I was the world's clumsiest kitten," Firewheel commented as she transformed back into her human shape upon reaching their goal.

"You are not clumsy," Raven stated. "But do remember that there are two years of age difference between you and Rascal. His legs are still too short for wide jumps."

"Loki's legs are fine, though," Firewheel pointed out with a hint of a Professor Snape style smirk.

"I'm from a desert clan," Loki snapped defensively. "I grew up on horseback, not in a tree."

"I didn't grow up in a tree either!" Firewheel returned. "I lived in a proper hut."

"Enough!" Raven hissed. "We are here to honour our kin, not to argue like humans."

They were Raven's kin, not his or the other kittens', Loki thought, but didn't argue. He'd seen this ritual performed before, but never had the chance to participate and welcomed the opportunity. What he didn't understand was why Rascal was supposed to just watch while the rest of them performed the ritual with several cats missing for full effect.

"Alright, take your positions," Raven ordered. "You both remember the whole chant?"

They nodded eagerly. Once they turned into their cat-shapes no further questions or instructions would be possible.

Raven regarded them sternly.

"Well, positions?" he demanded impatiently.

""We are in position," Loki protested.

"No, you are not," Raven sneered. "An even V-formation. That means that you should be at equal distances from me. If you would kindly take a few steps back. Yes, that's better. Firewheel, a step to the right. No, your right, not mine!"

It took almost a minute until Raven was satisfied.

"Now remember to keep an eye on each other once you start moving. Your movements are supposed to be symmetrical. Do you both know what symmetrical means?"

Again they both nodded, though at least in Loki's case it was pure coincidence that Hermione had mentioned the word when they'd been looking at Slytherin's crest.

They transformed, Firewheel a little ahead of him, but still lagging behind Raven. At least she wasn't perfect yet either!

Raven began the chant and they joined in just like they'd practised. It required concentration, but they knew what they were doing. There was the high purr that he'd messed up in his first attempts and they started moving.

Stop no! Too fast. He slowed down to let Firewheel catch up. Low steady purring and those difficult sudden jumps in the melody ... Oh no! He'd stopped and closed his eyes in concentration while Firewheel had kept moving steadily. He rushed forward, caught his paw on a protruding root and almost fell missing the next few notes.

Gods, rituals were a lot harder than he'd thought! He couldn't believe the ease with which the priests pulled it off. And just how had Mistwalker and his delegation managed to make the V-formation look so effortless when they'd trotted into his clan's village?

"Mewl," he complained collapsing into a furry grey kitten-heap the moment the ritual was over.

Raven regarded him with a superior cat-sneer, but Firewheel happily dropped to the ground beside him, warm, soft body resting comfortably against his.

She wasn't entirely bad he thought distantly and gave the big orange paw that had suddenly appeared in front of his face a casual lick.

 

"So, did you find it this time?" Neville asked Madame Pomfrey hopefully.

Poppy shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid not, but at least we now know that you needn't worry about your friends' pets."

The poor boy's allergy had turned out to be a lot trickier than she'd expected at first. When her allergy checking spell had first confirmed the Neville's claim of having had an allergic reaction during Potions class, she'd expected it to be one of the ingredients of the potion he'd been brewing that day, but to her surprise they'd all tested negative.

Then again a Potions classroom was never as perfectly clean as it should be. Students tended to be messy when brewing and sloppy when cleaning and neither Argus Filch nor Raven could be expected to perform a thorough cleaning of the sort that was routine in potions labs on every workspace after every lesson.

So she'd gone and asked Raven what the class before Neville's had been working with that day and tested the boy for those ingredients. When that series of tests hadn't yielded any results either, she'd tried the standard equipment of students' potions kits, especially those ingredients that were only used from third year upwards.

Then she'd gone through the most well known allergens in Raven's stores. Still nothing.

That was when she'd no longer been able to ignore the nasty suspicion that Neville wasn't in fact allergic to Raven's ingredients, but to Raven himself. On the pretence that maybe somebody's pet had shed on Neville's or his lab partner's robes, she'd tested cat hair along with owl feathers and hairs of various other animals likely to be student pets, such as rats, mice, rabbits and dogs. On Neville's suggestion she'd even taken a sample from Lee Jordan's pet tarantula.

It was a relief that all of those tests had been negative, but of course Neville was eager for a positive result. It had to be uncomfortable not to know what might cause another, possibly worse, reaction.

"But then what could it be?" the boy asked.

"Lots of things, I'm afraid," Poppy returned. "A Potions classroom is naturally full of all sorts of possible allergens. There are over a hundred ingredients in Professor Snape's storeroom that we haven't tried and that is nothing compared to the number of substances that could have been carried in by the students. Pet hairs aren't the only things that can be carried around on a person's robes for one. Many students keep additional ingredients in their potions kits, to show off, out of curiosity or because they want Professor Snape to identify them for them. Then there are cosmetics which can include the most unexpected things. Maybe you breathed in somebody's perfume."

Neville sighed. "Will we ever find out?"

"Oh, don't give up, yet. It's much too early for that. Let's at least finish checking Professor Snape's ingredients. Maybe it's one of the rarer ones. That would explain why that allergy has only shown up once."

Neville sighed again and sat on one of the beds while she cast the newest series of testing charms.

"I just wish I knew. It makes me nervous not to. Every time I go to Potions I worry that it'll happen again and I'll mess up the potion and Professor Snape will get so mad."

"Professor Snape lets you wear your protective mask, though, doesn't he?" Poppy asked even though she was sure Raven wouldn't stop the boy. After all it was in his own interest that the boy didn't mess up and possibly cause an explosion and Firewheel's mask was much the same.

"Yes, of course," Neville confirmed. "In the first weeks he even checked whether it fit properly and that I was wearing it correctly at the beginning of each lesson."

"There you go. There's absolutely no danger as long as you're wearing your mask. It will filter out the allergens."

"But Fiona gets asthma attacks despite her mask, don't you?"

Poppy hadn't even noticed when the Catar girl had entered the room.

"It's smoke," Firewheel told Neville. "Not dust."

Oh, clever girl!

"What Fiona means is that she also reacts to very small particles that the mask can't filter. It's very unlikely that you're allergic to those, though. Don't worry about it," Poppy assured Neville, then turned to Firewheel. "Did you need anything, dear?"

"I was going to the library, but heard Neville," she said. "Maybe he can help me with homework?"

"Sure!" Neville beamed at her. He was such a sweet, helpful boy. It was a pity that he wasn't a better student. "What's the problem?"

"Charms," Firewheel sighed. "I still can't do the new charm."

"It's difficult," Neville agreed. "I only get it right half of the time myself. What happens when you cast it?"

"Nothing," Fiona admitted hanging her head. "Not even sparks."

"Then the problem is most likely the wand movement," Poppy suggested. "Let me just cast a few more test charms on Neville and then you can take him to your room to practise."

 

Neville was almost excited when Fiona led him into the small extra bedroom in the back of the hospital wing. He'd heard that there were a few additional rooms here where Madam Pomfrey could isolate possibly contagious patients, but he'd never seen one before.

The room was much smaller than his dormitory and sparsely furnished, but then it wasn't originally intended for someone to actually live in. There was the usual hospital bed and bedside table, which were probably its only normal furniture and a desk and cupboard that looked like they'd been hastily crammed in especially for Fiona.

"I know it looks bare," the girl explained. "I haven't had time to decorate."

The only decoration was a drawing of a huge black cat in a forest.

"Is that ..."

"A panther," Fiona explained hastily. "In the jungle. I know the trees are wrong. I can't draw that well and never saw the jungle, so they're German trees."

"I think it's beautiful," Neville said. It looked like a Catar to him. "So you like cats, then?"

He wished he could show the picture to Luna, but Fiona was obviously shy about her art and she didn't even know Luna, yet. Maybe he could bring the two girls together, though. Fiona had said that the hat had almost put her into Ravenclaw and, if she really liked cats, she'd probably be instinctively drawn to Luna. At least he hoped she would.

 

"Will you look at that!"

"What Ron?" Fred asked his little brother.

"The head table?" George suggested trying to figure out what Ron was pointing at.

"Dumbledore?" Fred tried.

"McGonagall?"

"Lupin?"

"Snape?" the twins said together.

Ron nodded eagerly. "He got two owls!"

The twins exchanged a look. On the one hand they were quite happy that Ron was spending more time with them lately. It helped prevent him from hatching too many weird theories, or at least acting on them. On the other he was terribly annoying, not to mention embarrassing.

"So what?" they asked. "The man got mail."

"But, but ... He got two owls on the same day!"

"So, two people wrote him. What's so special about that?" Fred shook his head at Ron.

"Don't you see? It's a conspiracy!"

"I'm sure," George nodded earnestly. "The owls have conspired to deliver Snape's mail on the same day. They should be arrested right away."

"Thrown into Azkaban," Fred agreed. "I mean, who knows how long they were holding back that first letter."

"The fist owl is probably on a diet," George decided. "She waited for the other one to make sure she'd only have half an owl treat."

"Yes, because Snape is so well known for overfeeding his owls," Fred confirmed. "That must be it."

"Not the owl! The demonic Malfoys and their werewolf and vampire allies," Ron corrected. "I know it. I heard Snape and Lupin mention wolfsbane."

"Gee, the Potions Master and DADA teacher discussing wolfsbane, how unusual!" George exclaimed.

"How could we have overlooked that clue?" Fred added.

"Honestly, Ron," George sighed deeply. "Lupin was probably teaching a class about werewolves and asked Snape for further information."

"Wolfsbane is a very new and complicated potion," Fred said. "He probably didn't have much information on it yet. He isn't much of a Potions expert, they say. Snape on the other hand reads all the latest publications in the field."

"What do the Malfoys have to do with it anyway?" Lee Jordan dared to ask. "I didn't know they even knew Lupin."

"Well, Malfoy always hangs around Snape, doesn't he?" Ron explained. "Whenever I happen past the Potions classroom or office he's there helping to sort ingredients, or just talking to Snape."

"So?" asked Lee very unimpressed. "He's a sneaky Slytherin, Snape's his head of house. Of course he's sucking up to him for a better grade."

"Or maybe he's interested in Potions and wants to make it his career," George suggested.

"Or he's got a lot of problems he wants to discuss with his head of house." Fred grinned. "He seems to be a bit of a Daddy's boy anyway. If he can't run to Daddy with every little problem, he runs to his head of house."

"Maybe," Ron allowed. He liked the idea of Malfoy being a cry-baby. "But that doesn't change the fact that Snape getting two owls on the same day is suspicious."

 

Severus took a glance at each of the two envelopes and pocketed them right away. He recognised the handwriting of his fellow clan masters quite easily by now, though Greypony's message was unexpected. He'd only been in France for about a week, too short to have any results and Dustcloud had stated very clearly that he'd only contact them via Firewheel. Hopefully this didn't mean trouble.

Mistwalker's letter was less surprising. He'd mentioned that he was expecting replies from several other clans in his last message. The worst this was likely to contain was the message that those clans had said no. Raven was by now quite willing to continue the project even if no other clans joined them. There were five of them, six if you counted Dustcloud. It might not be enough to establish a real network, but they could exchange information and offer kittens a chance to switch clans. Even those clans that still had stable numbers were threatened by too much inbreeding, Dustcloud apparently also struggling with overpopulation or else he would have valued Firewheel more.

Maybe more German kittens would be interested in joining one of the smaller clans once they realised the possibilities that those offered. He'd have to find an opportunity to demonstrate Firewheel's status in his clan.

He excused himself from breakfast early confident that his co-workers would assume that he needed the time to set up for his first lesson and retreated into his office to read Greypony's letter.

Dear brother,

Raven blinked at the parchment. It still read brother. What was Greypony thinking? It might look like an innocent address to a stranger, but most people who knew him knew that he didn't have any siblings.

I hope you and the children are well. How is little Fiona adapting to her new school? Her shyness worries me a little, but I trust that I don't need to remind you to keep an eye on the situation. You are the expert after all. Still it would be a relief to hear about the friends she has hopefully already made. Please pass my thanks on to Lucius. His warnings about the problems involved with using the French public floo have been very helpful as was his map.

Lucius had given Greypony a map? And the cat had accepted it? Greypony's willingness to deal with a Death Eater was almost frightening, but then Raven had introduced them himself.

I am currently enjoying the hospitality of our distant cousins in the Camarque.

What already? How had he found them so fast?

Our English cousins haven't visited them, yet. They are staying with family further north. If you can make time for a quick trip across the channel, we might be able to arrange a reunion with all our French relatives. It sounds like that would make a very big party.

Lots of Catar in France? Two clans at least and clearly one could give information about the other's affairs. They weren't dealing with isolationists this time. Could it be that Greypony had made contact with a surviving high council? If so, would they even be interested in their little hodgepodge collection? If they would have them, would it be wiser to continue building their own organisation, or to abandon the quest and join theirs?

Any news from our friends in the north?

Raven suddenly remembered the second letter. He unfolded it next to Greypony's.

Dear Professor Snape!

Good old Mistwalker, always formal.

I am sorry to bother you at a no doubt very busy time, but as you know I have mentioned your theory to some acquaintances of mine who I believe could be of much use in the project.

Mistwalker, he'd realised long ago would not have made a good secret agent. If a ministry spy or Death Eater ever saw this letter they'd immediately suspect a conspiracy of the other side. It practically screamed 'hidden message'.

Among them is a very wise man from Latvia who is called Lightdance among his friends. His contacts in the east would be highly valuable to our cause, but we do not get along as well as I would wish. There are too many ideological differences that stand between us.

Differences? What sort of differences? Was Mistwalker trying to say that he'd made contact with a dark clan?

I believe that you would find more in common with him, though. According to other associates who know him better he is not unreasonable and capable of co-operating across political lines, so perhaps the failing is mine.

Political lines or ideological? Was he talking about light and dark or merely north and south? Surely Latvia was too far in the north to have any southener clans. Then again, where were those contacts in the east? East of Latvia? Or east of Europe? The Middle East? All seemed equally unlikely.

Anyway, he has asked for a personal meeting at the end of next week and if at all possible I would prefer, if you were there to lead the talks in person.

Albus was going to get suspicious. After all these years of hardly ever leaving the castle on holidays this would be his fourth trip this year and there was the planned meeting at Stonehenge still to come. He could only hope that the other teachers didn't complain too much about all the extra work. It really wasn't fair to ask one of them to cover for him ever second week, but then again he'd covered for all of them over the years. They owed him.

With one exception. Raven had never covered a Religion lesson, but then Albus was already aware of the Slytherins' dislike of Sir Saint Aignon and wasn't going to ask him.

He wondered vaguely what he'd have done, if asked to teach Religion. He knew the Roman Catholic faith well enough to make a convincing attempt, though it would never satisfy the Templar. Which wouldn't be a problem, because after all Raven wasn't qualified to teach the subject. He could claim to have given it his best effort.

Then again it went against everything he believed and wouldn't it be great to just once in his life teach the little wizards what he truly thought? He could take them out into the forest and conjure an elemental spirit for them, tell them of gods and the rules of the forest, of respect for nature and its living things. Or he could simply tell them all the things that were wrong with their religion.

He could, but he'd probably be dead the moment Saint Aignon got back.

But of course Albus had never asked him to teach Religion and probably never would. He had the fullest schedule in the school, so every lesson he substituted for another teacher meant a cancelled Potions lesson. Therefore he was usually only called on for fifth or seventh year classes. This year was a bit of an exception due to Lupin's frequent sick leaves and the students' deplorable performance in DADA. They just couldn't afford to cancel those lessons and Albus knew that Severus was one of the few teachers who were both qualified and willing to do more than just revision.

Religion, though much enforced by the Templars and ministry, didn't have the same status in the headmaster's mind and, if Saint Aignon fell ill, Albus would probably have Julian substitute wherever possible and cancel the rest of the classes. The Temple might protest that, but then they could always send a qualified replacement teacher.

Raven cast his daydreams of teaching Catar Religion aside and concentrated on answering his mail.

My dear friend,

It sounded a bit too familiar on second thought, but then Greypony had addressed him as brother in his own letter. He hoped the cat wouldn't feel insulted.

We are all fine, though my frequent absences this year have caused us to fall behind schedule. Fiona is doing much better than our friends have led us to expect. She is having a little difficulty with her wand-work and adapting to studying in a different language, but I am sure that she will do fine once she overcomes those problems...

He surprised himself with how much and how positively he wrote about Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. The value of Firewheel having a female friend with a Muggle background couldn't be denied, though and Longbottom's clumsiness would help the kitten not to lose even more self-esteem despite being so hopelessly behind her classmates at wand magic.

Harry Potter took a little more effort, but Severus finally settled on writing that he was a loyal friend and appeared to be religiously tolerant as Muggle raised children tended to be.

He also wrote several inches about his worries concerning Ron Weasley, his intolerant family and tendency to see plots everywhere. Ron was also obviously jealous of Firewheel's friendship with Granger, he realised, and with good reason.

Weasley had never been a good match for the know-it-all while Firewheel seemed to share some of her interests and had a more pleasant personality than the boy.

When he thought about it, it was odd how well he got along with Ron's twin brothers, but he couldn't help liking Fred and George with their intelligence and interest in his subject. Percy and Ginny were overall pleasant students as well, though less gifted. No, he couldn't blame the religious upbringing for his dislike of Ron. The other Weasleys' beliefs would probably be just as much a problem, if they ever found out that he and the kittens were Catar, but it didn't make them unpleasant people in general. Something else was wrong with Ron.

Hopefully Greypony wouldn't be annoyed at the length of the letter, but it felt good to have put it all into words and he liked the idea of somebody actually reading about his worries. Greypony was free to skip to the interesting part of the letter whenever he liked after all.

The letter to Mistwalker took almost as long to write, though it turned out very short. Raven always found it very hard to find the right words for this cat. Part of it was probably that he wasn't used to writing letters this much and that he hadn't had much time to get to know Mistwalker. Greypony was generally much easier to talk to.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sort of Not-Disclaimer: I picked the names for all the clan-masters quite a while before actually starting to write the fic. At that time I'd never read any Neil Gaiman book, so the Catar Stardust is not a tribute to the novel Stardust ... Then again can I make him a tribute anyway?
> 
> Note to MAGICCATAR: Sorry, but WTF ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? The Catar are a made up people INVENTED BY ME! Checking Google I find that catar is also a Spanish verb and a German last name as well as some acronym, but there is no such people nor is there a person called Simon de Monfort. I'd assume you mean Simon de Montfort, but what does he have to do with my made up bit of History of Magic?

Chapter 18: Warrior Leader

 

"So why can't we come to France with you?" Rascal was sitting on one of the front row student worktables in the Potions classroom dangling his legs. "You took me to Iceland."

"It is a weekend," Loki added from somewhere behind or under the table. He was still unused to the human Potions equipment and took longer to set up for class than his friend. "No classes."

"But homework and studying to do," Raven pointed out. "Besides France isn't Iceland. Wizarding immigration there is complicated and time consuming."

Which was why he was going to take a Muggle train, but the kittens didn't need to know that. Not that either of them was likely to own a Muggle passport.

Rascal pouted. "But it would be educational. And we can do all our assignments during the week."

"I am not going to take you and that's my final word," Raven stated with a Professor Snape glare.

In the back of the room the door opened and more students streamed in. Well, that should end this discussion even if his glare should fail to impress the kittens.

"Hi, Cousin Draco! What is wrong?" Firewheel was learning her role fast. A few days ago Raven had still been worried that she'd call the other kitten Rascal in public and on one occasion she actually had. Luckily the only person to overhear them had been Mr. Filch who'd probably just assumed it to be some sort of family nickname or friendly teasing.

"Professor Snape is going on a trip to France with Loki's father," Rascal complained. "And he's refusing to take us."

"France? To meet ... you know ..."

"Yes," he confirmed. "Mr. Grey has met some people he wants to introduce me to there. And I'm not taking you either."

"But my mission!" Firewheel gasped.

The other Gryffindors looked at her oddly.

"Your 'mission' for this weekend is to practise Charms and Transfigurations," Raven improvised quickly. "We will do an extra hour of Potions tutoring next week."

"But ..."

"It is safer to take a break anyway," Raven cut her off putting extra emphasis on the word 'safer'. "We don't know how your asthma will react to such frequent exposure to potions fumes and from what I have heard from your other teachers you are even further behind in Charms and Transfigurations than you are in Potions."

The last part was true. Though she'd not done much brewing herself before her arrival at Hogwarts, Firewheel had watched others prepare potions and she obviously had been taught how to cook. As long as she was given a recipe to work from she had no problem producing a passable potion. It put her in the best third of this class for practical work. Her theoretical knowledge was nowhere near that level, though which he was going to use as an excuse, if anyone challenged Fiona's need for Potions tutoring.

Firewheel sighed, but nodded. He could understand her worry. Dustcloud had sent her here with the excuse that he wanted her to watch and report on Raven's progress. Deep down she was probably hoping that he'd take her back after all, if she performed that task well. It was an unrealistic hope, but Raven didn't have the heart to tell the kitten. He knew what it meant to be cast out. The German clan was the only family Firewheel had ever known and she didn't know him or Rascal well enough to accept them as worthy substitutes. He hoped that someday she would, though. Hopefully before Dustcloud made her exile official.

"Silence!" he snapped at the class. "For those of you who are too blind to have noticed, today's recipe is on the blackboard. Those of you who have actually read it and have half a brain, which is probably too much to expect from a student in this class, should have noticed that it takes well over an hour to brew. Knowing the speed you usually work at this should tell you that not all of you are likely to succeed at finishing it within the two hour limit set by your schedules. I will not grant any time extensions on this potion, so you'd better get to work."

Most of the Slytherins had their cauldrons set up already, but the bigger part of the Gryffindors scrambled towards the faucet. Granger and Estella Rushton had to weave through them cautiously on the way to the ingredients cupboard, but the others were still writing ingredient lists. By the time they'd be heading to the front there should be little risk of a collision ...

A scream and the unmistakable sound of cauldrons falling and water spilling interrupted his train of thought.

"Weasley! Brown!"

"I'm sorry, Professor," the dripping wet girl assured him. "I didn't see Ron. He crashed into me from behind."

She had clearly been coming back from the faucet with a full cauldron, but why had Weasley been running behind her with an empty cauldron?

"Ten points off Gryffindor for inattention and running in the classroom," he decided. "Be careful not to slip in the puddle Weasley and Brown decorated the classroom with."

He could vanish the water, evaporate it, make it flow away or enchant a mop to clean up, but he was feeling vindictive today and it would force him to take his eyes off the students while he did it.

"Mr. Longbottom, what are you doing?" It couldn't take this long to write down the ingredients he needed.

"Copying the recipe, Sir," Longbottom admitted shakily.

"And why, pray, would you need to? The recipe will remain on the blackboard until the end of the lesson."

Longbottom blushed deep red. "To check off the steps as I brew, Sir."

Raven checked his impulse to snap at the boy just in time. Longbottom was one of the slowest brewers in class and couldn't afford to waste time, but remembering his forgetfulness this couldn't be considered as such.

"Very well. Get on with it."

"Sir?" Longbottom was staring at him wide-eyed.

"For a sieve-brain like you the idea might have merit. The rest of you'd better remember that it is time consuming, though." Not that he expected many of them to try it. Granger and some of the more interested Slytherins might want to copy the recipe for further studying, but he wasn't really worried about the top students' ability to finish in time. "And Longbottom?"

"Sir?" This time he sounded a little less like a frightened mouse than Severus was used to.

"I advise you to pay particular attention to the porcupine quills. Do you realise why?" Maybe singling the boy out like this was a bit cruel, but he tended to do better on tests than practical exams. Maybe he could save his grade on theoretical knowledge.

"Um ... because I tend to melt cauldrons and that is often caused by mistakes when adding porcupine quills?"

The boy wasn't entirely unaware of his main problems. By now he was shaking all over, though and it wasn't a good idea to hold him up.

"Well, that's a start, Longbottom. Perhaps Mr. Weasley can help you out on exactly what those mistakes are?"

Ron Weasley gaped at him like a fish. Potter was whispering encouragements to Longbottom, but Severus decided to let it pass in favour of harassing Weasley. Longbottom had done well right now, but it wouldn't be proper to tell him so himself. Let Potter do it then.

"Well, Mr. Weasley? Mr. Longbottom is waiting."

"Er ... what was the question again?"

Just what did it take to get Weasley to listen to what he was saying in class? "What should Mr. Longbottom pay special attention to when adding the porcupine quills so he won't melt another cauldron?"

"Um ... The porcupine quills?"

"Yes, the porcupine quills," Severus confirmed. "Not you, Miss Granger. We're all aware that you know and Miss Patil knows as well. All the Slytherins know," he continued as more hands rose into the air. "Why even Miss Wheeler thinks she knows the answer. Only Mr. Longbottom is unsure and it seems that his two dear friends Weasley and Potter can't help him. Or what do you think, Potter?"

"Er ... you always have to take the cauldron off the fire and wait until the potion stops boiling before adding porcupine quills, Sir," Potter stuttered.

He hesitated. "That is correct for this potion, but always is wrong, Potter. What else should Longbottom remember?"

"Not to add too many," Longbottom himself volunteered.

"And most importantly ... Miss Brown?" The girl had been busy casting drying spells on her robes.

"Not to add them too fast which is the mistake we're most likely to make today."

"And why would you expect it to be the most likely mistake?" Such commentary was rare in his class.

"Because of the time pressure, Sir."

"Indeed. So pay attention to that." Discussing the most accident prone steps of potions was turning into a habit with this class, but it was also showing surprisingly good results. Maybe he should do more of it with his other students as well. The Weasley twins would definitely find it more interesting than merely brewing simple fifth year potions.

Longbottom didn't finish his potion in time, but Raven secretly wrote an A into his notebook anyway. He rationalised it as rewarding the boy for brewing it correctly up to the point he'd reached and showing initiative to work on his specific problems.

Potter received a D for not completing his potion. In his case the reason was distractedness, not a more time consuming work-method. Gregory Goyle had completed it just in time, but incorrectly. Another D.

Es for Granger, Rascal and Estella Rushton who'd all remained well under the two hour deadline. He was feeling generous after that and handed out Os for all the other correct potions and As for those that varied only slightly in colour, texture or strength. Too bad Gregory's potion would have a completely different effect than desired. He wondered vaguely whether the Weasley twins might have a use for the unusual variant of hiccup solution, but doubted they'd appreciate the smell.

 

"I don't see why you dislike Snape so much," Fiona said to her friends when they were doing their Potions homework in the library that evening. "He's a good teacher."

"Didn't you notice how unfair he is?" Harry complained. "And how he's always picking on us?"

"He was angry at Ron for running over Lavender and not paying attention," Fiona excused him. "And he was right, wasn't he? Ron was the only one who melted his cauldron today. Snape saw it coming when he realised that Ron wasn't listening so he tried to force him to pay attention."

Fiona must be used to very strict teachers, Hermione thought. It was strange for a girl who'd been home schooled. Maybe she'd attended sports or music lessons at some private institute?

"He picked on Neville and me, too," Harry pointed out.

"And I didn't melt my cauldron," Neville said. "I watched the porcupine quills as Snape told me to and my potion turned out fine."

"He wasn't picking on you, Harry," Fiona added. "He just asked you a question. You didn't raise your hand to show you knew."

"And if I had raised my hand, he'd have picked me anyway," Harry insisted.

"Snape is a harsh and demanding teacher," Hermione threw in before it could turn into an argument that might scare Fiona away. "And he doesn't like us. I think much of his behaviour is honest impatience with the less talented students, though. He's bored teaching basics. Most of our class will probably never get to the point where we could learn the things that Snape would enjoy teaching."

"I don't think you can call someone a good teacher, if he gets so impatient that he scares his students, but he knows a lot and he is trying. He approved of my check-list when I told him what it was for. If he'd just wanted to scare or fail me, he'd have forbidden it."

"He still ridiculed and failed you," Harry insisted.

"That's his way and he told us he'd fail everybody who didn't complete the potion," Neville returned. "He did mention that I'd brewed it correctly so far, though. It wouldn't have been fair towards people like you who didn't finish in time either, if he'd passed my work, but he did let me know that my new method works. Now I just have to work on becoming faster at it."

"And I have to work on Transfigurations," Fiona said with a sigh. "McGonagall's getting impatient with me not being able to turn a beetle into a button."

Hermione smiled at her. "Oh, that's not so hard. Here," She turned a piece of parchment into a beetle. "I'll show you again. You just ..."

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

Fiona looked up at the girl next to her in surprise. It was a blond Ravenclaw that Hermione had seen around before, but wasn't in their year, so she didn't know her name. That was unfortunate, because Fiona was a lot less nervous around new people once someone introduced them.

"Hi Luna!" Neville exclaimed happily. "Oh yes, please sit with us! How are you?"

"Great," Luna answered happily. "I just got a letter from my father and he has this great new story, but I'm not allowed to tell anyone, yet. It's really cool, though. Remind me to show you when he sends the new issue."

"Er..."

"Hi Luna," Harry said casually ignoring the chatter.

Did everybody except her and Fiona know this girl?

"Oh sorry," Neville blushed. "This is my friend Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw. Her father's the editor of the Quibbler. That's a magazine, Fiona. We'll show you when the next issue comes out. Luna, this is Hermione Granger and Fiona Wheeler. They're in my year."

Hermione suppressed a frown and tried to be polite. It wouldn't do to tell the daughter of the editor what she thought of the Quibbler, but in her opinion it was at best useful, if you ran out of toilet paper.

Then again there were few wizarding papers and if you were an older male reporter you probably had little chance or inclination to be hired by Teen Witch. If you didn't land a job with the Daily Prophet, the Quibbler might be your only option. It might be a lot of crap, but at least it would feed your family.

Luna however turned out to be full of the sort of theories one found in the magazine and Hermione found it hard to remain friendly. She was surprised how well the usually rational Fiona took to the girl. Apparently she found her amusing.

Hermione herself however couldn't take Luna for very long and when Loki arrived with Malfoy a little later she spontaneously excused herself from her friends to talk to the Icelandic boy. There was something she'd been meaning to show Loki.

It wasn't until she'd already approached the boys that she remembered that she probably wouldn't be welcome at Malfoy's table. Well, too late now. She refused to be afraid of the Slytherins.

"Hello," she greeted rather shyly.

"Hello Hermione." Loki seemed completely relaxed about it. Didn't he understand the house rivalry at all?

"Granger?" It was more question than greeting.

"I've been reading more on Salazar Slytherin," she explained. "And I think I've found something interesting. There are references to a book on the early days of the founders. I think it might have some of the answers we were looking for a while ago, but there doesn't seem to be a copy here."

"A book on the Hogwarts founders that's missing from the Hogwarts library?" Malfoy asked. "Very well, Granger, show us what you've got."

She supposed that was the friendliest welcome she was going to get from him.

The books she'd found the references in weren't hard to find again. The library kept several copies of each and at least one was always available. She showed Loki each of the text passages, but he seemed a lot more interested in the print dates. After just a quick check of each book he looked up.

"They are all copies of much older books," he stated and Hermione could have hit herself over the head for not realising it sooner. "Maybe the book is lost?"

"Maybe, but I think it's more likely that it was removed for containing information on Catar that somebody wanted to hide," she suggested.

"You're sure it isn't in the restricted section?" Malfoy asked.

"It isn't in the catalogue of books," she explained.

"According to Blaise neither is the Complete History Of The Templar Order," Malfoy returned with a smirk. "But it's on the last shelf in the back of the restricted section. I've seen it."

That was interesting. Was there a separate catalogue for the restricted books? But many of those did show up in the normal catalogue with the remark restricted. Maybe the catalogue only listed the ones students could request permission to check out, though and the really dangerous books were available only to the teachers?

"What could be that secret about a history of the Templars, though?" she asked. "What's in that book?"

"I don't know," Malfoy whispered. "Maybe there are some scandals they'd rather forget. I haven't read the book. I just noticed it because of its size."

"How do we get in there to look?" Loki asked.

"We could try sneaking in, but the darker books have alarm charms," Hermione suggested. "Considering that it's not even listed I doubt we'd be able to open it without alerting Filch."

"Forget that," Malfoy decided. "We'll ask Professor Snape. If there's a way to get the book, he'll know."

"But he's a teacher and there's information on Catar in there. He's not allowed to let us have that."

Malfoy laughed at her. "That's why we're asking Snape and not Saint Aignon. The Templar would like to keep everybody ignorant. Snape knows his stuff."

"And he'd share that knowledge?" Stupid question, Hermione realised the moment she'd said it. Snape might not like helping Gryffindors, but according to the Weasley twins he willingly provided extra information and answered all their unusual questions. If her theory about him was correct, he enjoyed teaching advanced students material that went beyond the normal syllabus. He might not agree to give her a restricted book she didn't really need for her Potions assignments, but Malfoy was his favourite.

Would he let her see the book, if he managed to get his hands on it?

"That depends, but if our interest is merely Hogwarts history and Salazar Slytherin, he won't deny us a book just because it contains information on Catar." Malfoy seemed very sure of his facts.

"He also tells us how to brew poisons," Loki pointed out. "Only says that we shouldn't."

"He does that so we'll know how to recognise them and know what ingredients are risky," Hermione told him. Loki had a point, though. Like Malfoy had said the Templar was protecting them from different beliefs by denying them any knowledge about them. Snape protected them from dangerous potions by giving them the knowledge and trusted that they would use it to protect themselves rather than harm others. Both were taking a high risk, or at least in the eyes of the Templar it had to be a risk. Hermione didn't see any reason to fear slight variations of faith.

The realisation of that profound difference between Hogwarts' two strictest teachers kept her mind busy for the rest of the day. Comparing the two teachers she'd once thought so very alike led her to some interesting conclusions.

If someone had asked her only a day earlier, she'd have described Snape's teaching style as authoritarian and restrictive. At a closer look however it was strict and demanding. He expected much of his students and set a lot of rules, but then those were mostly safety measures. Brewing potions was a dangerous activity. The more difficult the potion the higher the risk that something would go wrong. So by setting them highly demanding potions Snape was expressing his trust that they were responsible enough to do it right.

Students like the Weasley twins, who asked additional questions, got thorough answers and often additional assignments. It took additional time and effort from Snape as well as the students.

Saint Aignon on the other hand only ever gave them material to learn by heart. The only one he trusted to research and handle risky information was himself.

Perhaps the problem with Snape wasn't that he had too low, but too high expectations of his students' maturity. While Saint Aignon treated them like children, Snape demanded that they acted like responsible adults. Maybe, if she hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor, he'd even have liked her eagerness to learn.

 

Albus beamed at Raven. "Why Severus, two consecutive weekends?"

"I'm sorry, Albus. I know it's disrupting the other teachers' schedules, but it looks like this is gong to be a busy year for me privately."

"Mr Grey seems to be a very demanding friend," Albus twinkled.

"He is a lot more outgoing and social than I am," Severus agreed. "And travelling around this much means he sees a lot of new people and places."

"So, more ingredient-gathering this time?"

"A party in France," Severus admitted. "I wouldn't normally want to go, but maybe I can create some ties to the French ministry or at least get a hint of what the general opinion on our request for help against the dark lord is."

"A ministry party?" Albus asked surprised.

Of course, if Greypony were able to win over the traditionally rather nationalistic wizarding government of France that easily, he might well be worth recruiting for the order after all.

"Oh no, just a private party, but from Grey's letter it will be a very large one so there's a good chance that somebody there would know somebody. It'll take some luck to identify them, but it can't hurt to try."

Albus nodded. "At the very least there should be rumours."

"The second trip will be of no use to the order," Severus continued. "It's an invitation from a fellow Potions Master that I met over the holidays. Nothing special, but it might prove of academic value to cultivate the friendship."

"I don't think I can impose on poor Professor Vector again this soon," Albus apologised. "But if you don't mind me assigning Remus or Julian ..."

"Not at all. Lupin will no doubt handle the house well. Julian might find them a bit more challenging."

Remus Lupin had substituted for Minerva McGonagall without a problem before. Slytherin wasn't that different from Gryffindor. The Muggle Studies teacher would no doubt rise to the occasion as well. Someone who could handle working in a partnership with Saint Aignon for as many years as Julian Harper had could learn to handle any house.

 

"Severus?" Remus Lupin's head poked through the door to his office later that evening.

"Remus?" Raven answered imitating Lupin's tone exactly. It wouldn't do to be unfriendly when the werewolf was probably only here to help him. Raven didn't think that Lupin actually needed his advice to be able to watch his house for two days, but then Lupin was doing him a favour and he shouldn't be uncooperative. He'd probably need him to do it again sometime this year.

"Do you have a moment?"

Raven nodded and the werewolf entered, locked the door and cast a strong sound proofing charm over it.

Maybe he'd been wrong to assume that this had anything to do with his planned absence. It looked more like Lupin wanted to discuss either wolfsbane or order business.

"I think I may have found out what Voldemort is looking for in Askaban," Remus announced.

That was interesting. "Have you told Albus?"

"Of course," the werewolf confirmed. "He decided not to call an emergency meeting, but asked me to inform you since you'll most likely miss the next scheduled meeting on Saturday."

Most likely? He was definitely going to miss it. What was Albus playing at?

"Trying to get some information on the situation in France," he explained. That would have to be enough for Lupin.

"I see." He didn't try to dig any further. "Word on the street is that Voldemort is looking for a hidden room, or possibly even just a small hidden compartment that might have been completely walled in when the prison was constructed."

Lupin stopped and looked at him expectantly, but Severus was unfamiliar with this particular legend.

"Any idea what's supposed to be in there?"

"We aren't completely sure, yet, but one of my sources believes it to be the wand of Salazar Slytherin."

Raven burst out laughing. Remus eyed him nervously. It wasn't like Professor Snape to laugh like that.

"I thought it was unlikely as well, but according to Albus there might be something to it," the werewolf explained. "As Hogwarts a History states the wands of the founders remained at Hogwarts after their deaths, but were moved to the ministry about three-hundred years later. What the book doesn't mention however is that the ministry only received three wands. It is generally assumed that the missing one is Slytherin's, because he is the only one that didn't die at Hogwarts. Of course, his wand could have been transferred to the castle after his death and one of the four could have been stolen or lost at a later time."

"Lupin!" Raven interrupted. "Salazar was a Catar."

"So? What's that to do with the fate of his wand?"

"Catar do not require wands. They consider them a hindrance rather than an asset. And Salazar openly stood to his race. The only reason I can think of for a Catar to own a wand, is to pass themselves off as human wizards."

"He taught human students, though," Remus said after a moment of quiet thought. "Maybe he used a wand for teaching wand magic."

"Unlikely," Raven judged. "It would have made a lot more sense to leave that to one of the others in the first place. Salazar would have had to learn it himself before he could have taught it, while the other three were all experts already. A Catar would have been much better suited to teaching History, Herbology, Magical Creatures, Runes and also Potions. Considering that there were only four teachers at the time they probably didn't have so wide a range of subjects as we do today. My personal theory is that Charms and Transfigurations would have been a single subject, probably taught by Helga Hufflepuff. Godric from what we know of him seems to have specialised in the fighting arts. That probably included sword craft as well as defensive and offensive spells. Ravenclaw as the studious one would have taught History, Runes, Arithmancy, Reading and Writing ..."

"Reading and Writing? Wouldn't the students have known that already?"

"In those times they were rare arts and considered very difficult. The students would also have been much younger when they first arrived at Hogwarts," Severus explained. "Latin would most likely also have fallen into Ravenclaw's area, leaving Potions and nature lore for Salazar."

"Possible," Remus allowed. "Though Ravenclaw seems a bit too busy compared to the others. But it is only theory anyway. Slytherin may still have had a wand or there could be something else hidden in the walls of Azkaban."

"You have to realise that even if there is a wand, it is highly unlikely to be suitable to Voldemort," Raven added.

In fact it would be perfect, if Voldemort was really chasing after Slytherin's wand. It'd keep him busy and would be a merely symbolic victory, if he ever was successful.

"There may be a lot of generations between them, but they do have a lot in common and many magical traits run in the family."

Raven glanced towards the door. Locked and spelled. "Lupin, Salazar was a Catar."

"So?"

"I know Voldemort quite well. If he were a Catar, he'd use it."

"So that particular trait wasn't passed down through the generations. That doesn't mean others weren't either. He did inherit the talent for Parseltongue."

"So it seems, but Catar always breed true. If Voldemort is descendent from Salazar, it is by adoption rather than blood. Parselmouths may be rare, but they have shown up in several different bloodlines."

Lupin was silent for a long time. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Would I present it as fact, if I weren't?"

"Does Albus know?"

"He believes it makes little difference whether they actually are related or Voldemort only believes that they are."

"They are still very similar personalities," Lupin decided. "Related or not the wand is made for one favouring powerful dark spells."

Raven sighed deeply. "Catar deal mostly in nature magic, Lupin. They despise what we consider the dark arts now. In Salazar's days the term often referred to pagan rituals more than harmful and dangerous spells. Salazar was a Catar high priest. That was his dark arts. Godric Gryffindor probably practised more of the dark arts Voldemort knows than Salazar did."

 

"What was that about Muggle meeting places again?" Greypony teased as they left the Muggle train station."

"It is easier to enter France the Muggle way," Raven returned. "At least if you have the necessary Muggle documents."

"So, you have a Muggle identity as well."

"Most of Albus' agents do." He'd spent more time pretending to be a Muggle than most of the others, though. It came surprisingly easily to him. Maybe it was because he was already so used to pretending to be something else.

"How are you with marshland?" Greypony asked casually as they continued towards the national floo station.

"Marshland? I've travelled the British marshes sometimes, but am much more at home in the forest." Voldemort's hideouts and meeting places had been very educational in that respect.

"Good, this is my first time, though Acornlight was kind enough to give me a few basic survival tips."

Two French Aurors flanked the door to the floo station. They regarded the travellers distrustfully.

"Is that the name of our host? I look forward to meeting him." Raven kept it vague for the benefit of the Aurors.

"Tourists," Greypony explained to the one on the right waving a scroll. "Going to stay with relatives in the country."

The wizard didn't seem to know much English, or maybe he just didn't feel like demonstrating the skill. The language was taught at Beauxbattons after all and the visitors for the Triwizard Tournament had all been able to make themselves understood.

The Auror let loose a rapid stream of French, though.

Greypony looked just as clueless as Raven felt and just pointed at the parchment. The Auror accepted it, read through it then talked more French.

"Hogwarts really should teach at least one foreign language," Raven commented. "Our languages are related, but I have no idea what this wizard is talking about."

"I don't have any idea either to be honest and I did get lessons in French once. I guess we are lucky to have Gerard's parchment."

The Auror fell silent. Ah, so he did understand after all. Raven suppressed a smirk and also managed not to start when the other Auror unexpectedly touched his arm.

"Floo," the wizard said and pointed.

That much had been obvious from the start, but with foreign Aurors one did best to remain polite.

The pub they flooed to had only one Auror guard and he was apparently too busy drinking to give them more than a casual glance. Greypony nodded at him and led Raven to a table in the back where he ordered two butterbeers.

Raven frowned at him.

"It would seem suspicious to just floo into a pub and walk right out again. If you have a drink first, they don't even notice you when you leave, though. At least that is how it seems to work in this pub."

"We should have stuck with the Muggle transport."

"This way is still faster and cheaper even if it isn't what you're used to."

"You said this is marshland?" Raven asked a little later.

"Yes, Nightfire is a mash-clan. Surprisingly large considering the terrain and age of the clan. They've got good connections, too, not just with the other French clan, but also a smaller group in Portugal."

"Portugal?" It wasn't that far, but still surprised him.

"We're expecting their Leader, Stardust, today as well. He might even already have arrived."

"So Acornlight and Stardust ..."

"And Beavertail. I suspect that he's the most important cat we'll meet today, or at least Acornlight speaks very highly of him. They appear to be close."

"Have you met him, yet?"

"No, though rumour had it that he was approaching when I left."

Raven nodded. It was unfortunate, but couldn't be helped.

"He seems to be a slightly older cat from the way they talk about him. Honourable and wise."

"And Acornlight? What's he like?"

Greypony frowned. The disappointment in Germany and suspicious nature of French wizarding society seemed to have subdued his playfulness. Or was there something else bothering him?

"I think I preferred Dustcloud," he finally said.

"That overly formal rabbit?"

"Acornlight is at least as stiff, but with a more aggressive undertone rather than nervous. He's too young for his position, if you ask me, and too full of himself. They call him a paragon of virtue and a very skilled warrior, but I haven't seen him fight."

"A warrior clan-master?" That had been common in long ago warlike times, but the leaders he'd met so far were all hunters as fitted the more hidden lifestyle of today's Catar. Providers were more needed than defenders.

"And a generally rather warlike clan, but that might be due to their youth. They appear to be a recent branch off Beavertail's clan."

In that case the French Catar had to be thriving. Or there had been serious disagreements between factions causing the weaker group to move out, but even that usually only occurred when a clan grew too large and social stress caused aggression levels to rise.

"Acornlight spoke very positively of Beavertail, you say?" he asked Greypony.

"Yes, they appear to be close friends."

"A peaceful spilt-up and a warrior leader," Raven summed up. "Are we ready to join a big counter offensive against the Temple?"

Greypony stared at him in shock, but Raven didn't want to withdraw or amend his statement. The French cats clearly were regaining ground and that couldn't go unnoticed for long. If they did indeed re-establish a high-council it might well prove to be the Catar's last stand.

Raven was a warrior like Acornlight and had often risked his life in the wizards' wars. If the fight against Voldemort was worth dying for, the survival of his race was even more so, but where did their hunter allies stand on this? Their function was to provide food and assure the survival of the kittens. That goal was best served by living to hunt again another day.

 

The ground under their paws gave way with every step as they approached the village, but so far it had always held and the huts had been built on slightly harder ground. The marsh still was foreign and slightly intimidating, but it wasn't the dangers of the terrain that made Greypony nervous now. It was the powerful auras up ahead.

He'd realised much too late that Raven and Acornlight would be a bad combination. The incident with Mistwalker's companions should have warned him, but these were Southeners. He'd expected them to be more liberal, but so far had found them much stiffer and more extreme than the cats he was used to. Acornlight would not react well to Raven's taint and Raven would get hurt and possibly defensive.

He only hoped that it didn't come to a fight. There was probably no reason to fear for their lives, but it was likely to take much fur licking to console Raven, if they were chased off. Besides their mission might well fail, if the first well connected clan they found turned against them.

On the other paw, Raven's suspicion that the French were preparing for war with the wizards made him nervous as well. He doubted that there were enough Catar left in the world to win such a battle. Was it wise to start a friendship with a clan headed into a war they couldn't win? What if their small peaceful clans were drawn in with them? Wasn't that exactly what Dustcloud was afraid of?

Two brown cats stood waiting for them when they finally reached the village, their coats so alike that Greypony wondered whether they might be father and son. There had been no hint of any such relation between them in all the times the Nightfire cats had spoken of Beavertail which made it unlikely, though not impossible.

Beavertail was older than Acornlight, though not by as much as Greypony had been led to expect and didn't have the white acorn shaped spot on his forehead that the younger cat had been named for. He had an unusually bushy tail which he was raising proudly. It did not in all honesty resemble the broad, flat tail of a beaver, but it was still clear where the name had come from.

Greypony pulled himself together and formally stalked up to Acornlight. It was lucky that from the way they were standing it looked completely natural for him to greet the younger cat first, even though they'd already met. He'd have to switch sides with Raven to greet Beavertail.

Now if only Beavertail was a little more tolerant than Acornlight ...


	20. Chapter 19: Two Brown Cats

Chapter 19: Two Brown Cats

 

Greypony watched the other pair out of the corner of his eye while formally sniffing Acornlight. Beavertail wore an expression of disgust as their muzzles met, but went through the formalities without so much as a glance at the cursed leg. That had to have taken some self-control.

He put a slight extra hint of respect into his own greeting of Beavertail, but received only the same formal politeness Raven had. Perhaps he was generally reserved, or maybe he worried about Raven possibly feeling slighted, if he treated them differently? Then again perhaps it was simply due to being distracted by the simultaneous meeting of Raven and Acornlight.

Greypony thought he'd only taken his eyes off that pair for a moment as he sniffed Beavertail, but all his attention snapped back when the other cat's head jerked over to watch them.

Acornlight stood all fluffed up in battle-stance while Raven had his head cocked to regard him with a puzzled, but relaxed and non threatening expression. Greypony would have thought it vulnerable, if he hadn't seen first hand how fast Raven could switch between complete relaxation and battle mode. And that had been only play. He suspected that this situation could go to all fangs and claws in the blink of an eye, if somebody made a wrong move.

Greypony tensed, earning a quick side glance from Beavertail, but his attention was on Raven who continued to look unblinkingly at Acornlight, quizzical, but not impressed. That was probably the main problem. Acornlight had been prepared for the taint, but was used to awed respect, which neither his position nor his posturing would gain him from Raven. A more experienced cat would know that respect needed to be earned.

Beavertail calmly walked over and nosed between the pair then changed to his human shape.

"Perhaps," he suggested in almost accent free English. "We'd better go inside."

"That vagabond ..." Acornlight started.

"Meant to offer you a polite greeting," Raven said while his limbs were still melting back into human shape. A slow, casual looking transformation to help dissolve a volatile situation, but at the same time exhibiting an unusual amount of control particularly because of that very casualness. Raven too knew how to pose, though in a less obvious style. "Where I come from it is considered proper to return such gestures in kind, but then perhaps you are too young to know the finer points of proper manners."

"Please, we came here to talk peacefully. If you will accept my sincere apology for the incident ..."

"Your apology, Beavertail?" Raven asked pointedly. "I see no way that you have wronged me."

Raven and Acornlight got along better and worse than Greypony had feared. Once in Acornlight's hut they went through all further formalities without coming to blows, but Acornlight was bristling the whole time and Raven treated him with cold disdain in return and the meeting continued with mostly small talk during which he and Beavertail were careful to remain between the two at all times.

Acornlight seemed unusually relaxed when talking to Beavertail and even made a joke on one occasion. Clearly Beavertail was a good influence on him. Neither of the two was more than just polite towards Raven, though, Acornlight sometimes almost hostile.

It would take some fur-licking to soothe the black's nerves after this, but at least Raven was neither apologising nor backing down. Greypony took a while to figure out why. With both Mistwalker and Dustcloud Raven had acted embarrassed and almost submissive and he was clearly looking for Beavertail's approval as well. There was no desperate need behind it, though and Greypony got the impression that he'd rather do without Acornlight entirely. It became obvious when they finally started talking business.

"So you're looking to include us in a venture to establish a continent-wide high-council Acornlight tells me?"

Beavertail had addressed the question to Greypony, but it was Raven who answered.

"Primarily we're asking you to call in with the Fire Lady," he corrected. "I'm sure she will be glad to hear that France's Catar population is doing well. Our second goal is to discover how many Catar are left in Europe and where, mainly in order to enable an exchange of messages. It seems important that we should be able to send warnings of Templar movements to other clans at the very least. Besides that we have discussed several other possibilities, such as enabling clan-switching for young cats from smaller populations. Some of the clans we've contacted feel they are in danger of inbreeding while one actually seems to be suffering from over-population with no room to branch out. Establishing a European council at Stonehenge was an idea we discussed, as was a Northener council in Iceland, I believe."

"I thought we'd given up on that idea?" Greypony threw in.

"At the time, yes, but that was a while ago. Considering the number of clans we've found in the north so far and the size of the population here a single European council might turn out to be too large. Two slightly undersized councils might draw less attention from wizards and would leave room for future growth. It is too early to discuss this, though. First we need to know how many clans are interested."

"So we might be starting two separate councils?" He'd never considered the possibility that he and Raven might go on to separate projects after the Stonehenge meeting.

"It's not up to us to push our Southern brothers into anything, if we do decide on a Northener council," Raven said with a shrug. "I for one will discuss the questions of a European and a Northern council at Stonehenge, but stay out of purely Southern concerns."

"You're proposing to draw a line between north and south that disregards the old Northener-Southener division?" That had gotten Beavertail's attention.

It was noteworthy that neither French cat had asked for information about Raven's clan, but Beavertail was obviously aware of its Southerner status. He hadn't just faked recognition of Raven's mantle.

"Preposterous!" Acornlight hissed.

"I don't think those old differences are as relevant as they used to be," Raven returned calmly, but with an icy look at Acornlight that might have scared a more self-conscious cat. "Judging from the cats I've met so far the ideological lines have blurred over the generations and only the rules concerning intermarriage with humans remain as clear criteria to tell the difference. A geographical division seems more practical.

"It is a betrayal of our traditions, disrespect for the ancestors!" Acornlight hissed.

"I don't think Raven means to dispose with the difference between Northeners and Southeners," Greypony stepped in. The last thing he wanted was an outright fight. "Merely to suggest more cooperation. It makes no sense to keep up old hostilities with our numbers so much lower than they once were. Why shouldn't we try to further mutual understanding by having both philosophies represented in each council?"

"Chrr!" Acornlight hissed in displeasure.

Beavertail put a hand on his arm. "We are getting ahead of ourselves here. As Raven said earlier these are issues for discussion at a later stage and in fact the point might be rendered moot by that time. Let's wait and see whether there actually is sufficient interest in forming two clans before we start discussing where to draw the lines."

Beavertail, though more quiet and less illustrious than Acornlight, was clearly the more powerful of the two, Greypony decided, and the better leader as well. He kept a level head and was willing to let things play out before making a decision.

Acornlight on the other hand was more decisive and inspiring.

He could see an overeager young cat get impatient with Beavertail's slow decision making and challenge his authority. Few cats were likely to challenge Acornlight.

Of course, if he kept challenging Raven sooner or later the black would lose patience. He too was warrior trained and most likely more experienced than Acornlight. As far as Greypony could judge the result of the fight was not a foregone conclusion, but it was unlikely that Acornlight and Beavertail who'd never seen Raven hunt or play realised that. It was up to him, Greypony decided, to run interference and prevent the fight.

 

He did not like Raven. It wasn't the taint of dark magic, nor what, when you examined it closely, sounded more like a declaration of intent to switch allegiance than to abandon the Northener-Southener division altogether. Both probably played a part, but he could accept them.

It drew an interesting picture of the cat's character, though. Clearly Raven was not one to sit on the fence nor would he follow anyone blindly. He'd been raised in Southern tradition, but found more in common with the Northeners which indicated that he'd formed his own honour code. And he wasn't afraid of drawing the consequences of the discovery either. To what extent his clan was willing to follow such a move Beavertail had no way of telling, but it was clear that Raven was going to make it whether others liked it or not.

The dark mark was another confirmation of that. The fact that a cat would go to such lengths to assist in a war between wizards was surprising, but then the Sacred Forest clan had a tradition of close relationships with humans and Voldemort was claiming to be the heir of their ancestor, spreading the stink of dark magic in his name. Beavertail could understand their anger and Raven carving his own path was in character with his philosophical independence. One couldn't help admiring his courage.

Still the intense feeling of evil that surrounded the black was hard to ignore and probably influencing his emotions. It wasn't fair, but understandable.

What was much harder to explain was that he felt threatened by Raven when the black had given no sign of aggression and was demonstrating respect and hesitance to even enter his personal space.

Indeed all negative reactions Raven had shown so far had been directed at Acornlight who, no matter how much Beavertail liked him, really deserved a slap over the head today. Yes, the taint didn't exactly make Raven's company pleasant, but Acornlight's aggressive reaction to it was unwarranted. After all Greypony had specifically warned them so they could avoid offending Raven. Under the current circumstances infighting would only be counterproductive, especially between clans. They had enough outside enemies already and it was important that they stood together against those.

It was lucky that Raven understood that, for Beavertail held no illusions that fear was keeping him from answering Acornlight's challenges in kind. Raven might be the smaller of the two, but had most likely been through many battles of various kinds. Acornlight was a master at one on one fights mostly from practise, but also the occasional real dispute. He was a young warrior eager to prove himself in a real fight.

Beavertail hoped that Raven had nothing left to prove to himself and considered Acornlight merely an annoyance. Warriors of the same standing in a community usually needed to determine their ranking in a fight, but if Raven considered Acornlight beneath him it was possible that an incident could be avoided.

Acornlight's irresponsible behaviour today would further such an interpretation. At the same time however Beavertail wished that he were acting more mature and presenting himself as an equal to Greypony and Raven. He didn't like the idea of them viewing him as an inconsequential kitten which was why he'd refrained from admonishing his friend in any way. They needed to keep things peaceful and even-footed. If they didn't, Greypony and Raven had the advantage of having the stronger personalities and in the political arena at Stonehenge clan size would probably mean little.

The two together made for an interesting combination, Greypony with his open, winning and playful personality and the withdrawn, serious Raven, day and night, but both were charismatic and experienced leaders.

Raven was intelligent and strong, an impressive cat that could make a decisive stand. He was officially a Southener, but leaned strongly towards the north meaning that he had the potential to draw in allies from either side. His warrior status would appeal to young cats spoiling for battle. Moreover this cat didn't just have a talent for war and strategy, he'd learned the skills to go with it and kept them well practised. The wiser and more cautious cats would value his experience.

Acornlight would appeal to the younger cats as well, maybe even more than Raven, but his youth would stand against him with the older ones. They'd respect his physical skills, but doubt his wisdom and if he acted the way he was today, he'd only confirm that impression. Stardust might side with him over Raven, but not the Spanish leaders.

Greypony had the same winning charm as Acornlight could show when he wanted to, but was older and less impulsive and he'd be a familiar face to almost everybody at the meeting. Most of those coming to Stonehenge would meet each other for the first time. Familiarity would matter.

Besides Raven, Greypony and the still mysterious Mistwalker were the ones taking the initiative here. They'd arrange the meeting and start from the strongest position possible. The whole thing leaned too heavily towards the Northener faction. Beavertail would have to keep his allies close to balance it out with a strong and united Southener faction. And the Spanish were already a lost cause. They liked neither him nor Acornlight.

Letting the offer pass wasn't an option. If the Catar were going to regain any ground from the Christians, they had to act now and use every ally they could gain. They couldn't afford to splinter their counterattack into two separate movements.

No, like him or not, he had to form a positive relationship with Raven. He did feel respect for the black's courage. That was a point he could start from.

 

"Hey Fiona!"

"Hi Luna," Firewheel returned the greeting with a smile. The kitten, and by now she had little doubt that she was indeed a kitten, was three or four winters younger than herself and hadn't even transformed, yet, but in this world full of humans that made little difference to Firewheel.

Sure she liked Hermione and Neville, and Harry, Parvati and Lavender were nice as well, but they were all humans. Rascal and Loki were much better playmates, but tended to stick together often excluding Firewheel. It wasn't surprising of course. They'd known each other longer, were both males and in the same house. It left Firewheel feeling lonely and sad.

From what she'd seen at meals and in the library however Luna seemed to be completely friendless except for Neville. Perhaps, hopefully, she was lonely, too.

"I ... Well, you said you liked my bottle cork necklace," Luna said. "Would you like me to make you one, too? I've got to warn you, though. You'll be ridiculed. Most people just don't appreciate them."

"You'd make me a necklace? Really?" Nobody had ever suggested to make her a toy before. "Oh, I'd love that! Thank you, Luna!"

Luna beamed at her. "Great. Then I won't be the only one anymore and everybody will be able to see that we're friends. Maybe the others will even stop teasing me when they see there are other people who like them, too."

Oh, Luna was wonderful! Such a sweet and kind-hearted kitten! She wasn't even asking for payment, just offering her friendship. Still it was proper to give a similar token in return to demonstrate how much the gift meant to her. But what did she have to give?

She didn't have any money, or understand how to use it properly even though she'd watched Uncle Lucius buy her way to England. The only things that she'd successfully made herself that were safe to have around wizards were her drawings. The castle was full of much prettier pictures, though. Pictures that even moved and talked! And she had no idea whether Luna even liked art.

There was something else she could do, though.

"Hey Luna, do you want to know a secret?"

"A secret?" Luna's eyes went wide. "Have you discovered a new magical species? Or maybe a conspiracy against the ministry?"

"No, no, nothing that exciting I'm afraid. But you still can't tell anybody." She remembered a conversation she'd overheard at lunch a few days ago and added: "You've got to swear never to tell then I'll show you."

It might be slightly kittenish behaviour. The ones she'd overheard had been first years and there had been much giggling involved, but then Luna was only a year older than them. Indeed the idea seemed to appeal to her. She pulled out her wand right away.

"Not out here," Firewheel decided. "We've got to do it somewhere where nobody else can see."

Luna nodded eagerly. "Second floor girls' bathroom. It's the best place to hide."

"In the bathroom?" They weren't just hiding from boys after all.

"It's haunted," Luna explained. "But I'm friends with the ghost."

Firewheel thought for a moment. "Even if he's your friend, he still can't see the secret. I don't even know him."

Luna nodded her understanding. "Myrtle isn't very good at keeping secrets either. I think I know a way to get her to leave without hurting her feelings, though. Just follow my lead."

The bathroom Luna led her to wasn't exactly the best in the school. There were water stains everywhere, cobwebs and dust on the walls and one pipe was dripping regularly. Plop – plop – plop. Firewheel thought it would get on her nerves after a while. Or would she stop noticing, if she heard it for hours?

"Myrtle?" Luna called after a quick glance around. "Myrtle are you alright?"

There was a splash and then the ghost stuck her head through a graffiti covered stall door. "Luna. Where have you been? I haven't seen you in days!"

"Oh Myrtle! I'm so glad you're okay," Luna exclaimed. " Listen, you've got to stay away from the pipes for a while, especially anywhere the water can get out."

"Stay away from the pipes? But the u-bend's my home. Where else could I go?"

"But you can move around Hogwarts outside the water, can't you? Stay in an old classroom or in the attic for a day or two? The attic would be really good. I don't think he'd have a chance to get you there."

"He?" Myrtle asked. "Who's he?"

"Why the ghost-eating water-sprite that escaped from Professor Lupin's tank yesterday, of course," Luna said wide-eyed. "They think he must have jumped into the faucet in the Professor's office. I just overheard Lupin and Trellawney talk about it. I was so worried that he might have eaten you!"

Myrtle glanced around fearfully. "And he could come out of the dripping pipe?"

"Or out of a faucet, or a toilet," Luna confirmed. "A bathroom really is the most dangerous place for a ghost to be right now."

"Oh, I'll just move to the attic for a few days then." Myrtle hurriedly floated into the ceiling.

"And be sure not to go through any water-pipes! He might be in there," Luna called after her.

"A ghost-eating water-sprite?" Firewheel asked her. "I had no idea there even are such things."

"There aren't," Luna assured her. "But my father is the editor of the Quibbler and I talk about creatures nobody believes in all the time. If Myrtle ever finds out they aren't real or tells anybody, they'll just think that Loony Lovegood is hallucinating again."

"But if they tell Myrtle ..."

"She'll be relieved that there's no danger after all, but believe that I was honestly worried, because I thought there was. It can be very useful to be considered crazy. So do you want my oath now?"

Firewheel looked around. The last stall seemed to be a little bigger than the others. She pointed at it. "In there. Just to be sure that nobody can walk in on us."

They went inside and Firewheel locked the door like Madam Pomfrey had taught her to. Something was different about this bathroom, she felt, but wasn't sure what. She was still too unused to them. Perhaps it had something to do with Myrtle, but it hadn't been the stall the ghost had appeared from.

Firewheel pulled out her wand and held it in front of her as she'd seen the first year boys do. "Okay, now you swear."

Luna too held out her wand. "I swear by the name of Merlin and the wisdom of Rowena Ravenclaw never to reveal Fiona's secret," she declared solemnly and touched the tip of her wand to Firewheel's.

The first year boy had sworn by the honour of Godric Gryffindor and giggled a lot as he did it, but then he'd been a Gryffindor student. It seemed that oaths were a house specific thing.

"Okay ..." Firewheel began and glanced around. There wasn't much room in here. "Maybe you'd better sit on the toilet for this."

Luna nodded earnestly, clapped down the toilet seat and sat.

Without another word Firewheel transformed. It was so good to feel the ground under her paws again, even if it was flat, human made floor rather than the soft uneven earth of the forest.

Luna's eyes went very wide. "Oh! Oh you're so beautiful!"

She slid off the toilet seat and to the floor beside Firewheel and sank both her hands into her fur.

"And big." Luna's hand unerringly found that spot behind Firewheel's ear that always made her purr and scratched. "I thought kittens were much smaller, but you're only about a hand shorter than my Dad."

Firewheel purred with delight and wished she could show Luna Rascal for comparison. Or Greypony. If her father was only one hand taller than her, he had to be a very small cat. Then again, maybe Luna had misjudged. There weren't any proper points of reference here to help you judge the size of things.

"I can't transform, yet," Luna explained sadly. "I've only got these to show you."

Her claws were long and sharp. She'd make a good hunter someday. Firewheel purred some more and licked Luna's hand. There was no hurry after all. When Luna did transform she'd be here to introduce her to the forest.

They stayed like that for a while before Firewheel reluctantly turned back. There were things she needed to tell Luna.

"My real name's Firewheel," she explained. "And I'm sixteen winters old, not thirteen. Raven and Madam Pomfrey just thought it would be easier to pretend that I'm younger."

"Raven?" Luna asked.

"My teacher." She smiled proudly under her mask. It felt so good to have a teacher who actually cared about her progress. Despite having two other kittens on his hands that had so much still to learn that Firewheel already knew Raven always made an effort to give her some new information or a skill to practise. He even put the needs of the other kittens completely aside when teaching her human skills.

"I wish I had a Catar teacher," Luna said wistfully. "And I wish I could transform."

"It'll happen soon," Firewheel promised. "You're twelve winters, right? Most girls transform at thirteen."

"I'm almost thirteen," Luna corrected proudly.

"See, it'll be soon."

 

Stardust was not a particularly impressive cat, though very pretty with his grey fur shot through with white. It made him appear older than he was at first sight.

Raven didn't put much weight on physical appearance, but the cat also showed an almost disgusting and completely unwarranted awe for Acornlight that did nothing to endear him to the black.

Beavertail on the other hand was alright as far as he could tell after only an hour, not as pleasant as Greypony, but he reminded him of Mistwalker a lot. Yes, Mistwalker with added verbal skills and less of a stubborn streak. He let Acornlight get away with too much, but then they all did.

Acornlight was a good example of what Rascal could have grown up into, if Lucius had been the Catar parent in his family, trained to fight, but overindulged and given too high status too soon. Somebody ought to call him to order like an unruly kitten, but due to his clan-master status nobody had the authority.

He'd expected better from a cat Greypony had called a warrior leader. Acornlight had the training, yes, but he was far from being the real thing. One couldn't call oneself a warrior until one had gone through at least one truly dirty battle and learned the value of not having to fight.

These needless and clumsy challenges were appalling and Raven wished he didn't have to put up with them. If only he didn't have to be polite to their host, he'd show the fool what a down and dirty fight was. He suspected that Acornlight wouldn't last long when the claws actually came out. Not against someone who really knew what he was doing in a fight.

Stardust however seemed to be completely convinced by the kittenish strutting and posturing. Foolish kitten. Where were the veteran clan-masters of old with their torn ears and ancient eyes?

"What's wrong?" Greypony asked softly under the pretence of refilling his bowl with root and squirrel stew.

"Just thinking," he returned with a slight shrug. "Only two or three generations ago Acornlight and Stardust would have been way too young to even consider for the position of clan-master. Even you and I would have been young to actually hold such status. And it is not that we have come to value youth over experience that much. We are choosing younger leaders, because they are the only ones left."

"It wasn't that unusual to become clan-master at our age," Beavertail interrupted before Greypony could answer. "But then they would hold that position for many decades, so yes, to have only young clan-masters in a meeting of several clans is unusual."

"Mistwalker and Midnight are older," Greypony commented. "We have just recently lost a generation of leaders that had been in power for a very long time in both our clans."

"They should not," Raven repeated nodding towards the other fire where Acornlight and Stardust were basking in the attentions of some very young priestesses. "Appoint clan-masters that have barely grown out of their kitten-legs."

Beavertail sighed. "You've got the wrong impression of Acornlight. He is an excellent fighter and dedicated leader most of the time. I suppose the excitement of the feast must have gone to his head today."

Raven regarded the young cat thoughtfully. He could only hope for the Nightfire clan that Beavertail was right, but even if he was, a leader who was so easily influenced by moods was not a desirable thing.

"They only split off our clan five years ago," Beavertail continued. "Mostly young warriors and kittens back then. Acornlight was the best fighter and therefore most respected. I believe they have come a long way since then."

"But further still to go before they'll be a truly complete clan," Greypony added. "They say a new clan must have buried its first generation before you can be sure it'll last."

"Let's hope that they'll get to and the Templars don't do it for them, then," Raven said hoping to finish the topic. He didn't need the worries for Acornlight's arrogant brats when his own clan's future was even more fragile.

"Indeed, and talking of Templars, there's quite a dangerous nest of them in Spain. I suggest you avoid the place in your travels."

"Dangerous nest?" Raven repeated. He knew that there were two larger Templar castles there, but weren't all Templars dangerous?

"They nearly drove both local clans to extinction over the last two decades. Some horrible tales travelled over the border. Isn't that right, Stardust?" The last was shouted to get the younger cat's attention.

It was interesting that Sturdust sobered up immediately and joined them without even a last glance back at his priestess. Clearly Beavertail, too could command his attention when he wanted to.

"Is what right?"

"Spain," Beavertail explained. "I was just warning our friends of the Templars there. They've done horrible things to your friends, haven't they?"

"They have," Stardust confirmed with a shudder.

"You are in contact with a clan in Spain?" Greypony asked hopefully.

"Or maybe two," Stardust confirmed. "They once were different clans and still have two different clan-masters, but they live together like one clan."

He had an odd accent, but Raven was getting used to it.

"Can you give me directions to their village?" Greypony pushed.

"Dewshadow and Lightning?" Acornlight had followed Stardust over to them. "They'll be no use to us. Pathetic, cowardly loser-cats."

"We aren't assembling a war-party." Raven earned surprised looks from the French, but ignored that for now. "The Fire-Lady's message is for all Catar as is the invitation to exchange messages and join the meeting at Stonehenge."

"I can lead you to more promising clans," Stardust offered. "There's one in Italy and another in Greece."

"Sounds like a good route," Greypony decided. "Spain-Italy-Greece. A tour of the Mediterranean."

"Very Christian countries," Raven cautioned. "Be careful."

"Of course, but this time I'll know where I'm going and who I'm looking for so it will be a lot less dangerous." Greypony's old optimism was back. Maybe he should be worried, but Raven had missed it.

Whether he liked it or not, he had to accept that he was stuck with the French for now. Perhaps a split between northern and southern countries could help him keep some distance from them in the future, but they were part of the project now and determined to stay so. And here he'd been hoping for some peace if he managed to survive the Voldemort war.

 

"A book that contains stories of Salazar's childhood?" Blaise asked.

"We're not sure of that," Draco admitted. "Just that it includes information on the founders' early years, before Hogwarts. Granger found a reference that indicated childhood tales, but that was about Gryffindor. We're not sure whether it's true for Salazar as well."

Blaise still looked interested. "Even if there's nothing about Salazar, that book would be of great historical interest." A thoughtful pause. "Maybe that's the source of the tale of Helga and Rowena's puppy."

"Helga and Rowena's puppy?" Draco exchanged a puzzled look with Loki."

"Yes, when the puppy got hurt, Helga helped it and that's how she discovered her interest in the healing arts," Blaise explained. "At least that's how the story is most often told. I tried to find the original source last year, but never managed to. It's strange. If such a book exists, why aren't there several copies in the Hogwarts library? You'd think it'd interest a lot of students."

"That's why we thought it might contain something about Salazar's childhood as well. You know, cat-animagi stuff."

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to talk about this here in the common room, Blaise thought, but getting up and leaving now would probably just draw attention. If somebody had been listening, Draco had already given away their secret code anyway.

"You think it's classified as a dark book?" he asked Draco and Loki.

They nodded. "Granger checked the register and didn't find it, but we thought that maybe it isn't registered," Draco added.

"So we thought you can ask Pince," Loki suggested. "See her reaction."

That made sense, but why did they need him?

"Why don't you just ask her yourself?"

"Well, Loki isn't able to read such difficult texts, so it'll look odd that he knows about the book and I don't usually do research beyond what I need for assignments. She'd wonder what class it's for and probably just suggest something else, if I told her it's for Binns."

"Hermione always uses the register," Loki added. "But you read history books. Pince won't be surprised, if you ask for one."

"Just don't use the register," Draco warned. "Go to the library and spend some time in the history section. You do that all the time anyway. Then pretend you've been reading one of the books with the reference and show it to Pince. Just innocently ask where you can find it."

"Say you're looking for Rowena's puppy," Loki suggested. "Don't say Salazar."

Blaise nodded. "It could work, but I doubt she'd give me a book that isn't on the register." If she did, though, he might get the once in a lifetime chance to read it. "If she lets me check it out, I get to read it first."

"Okay," Draco agreed "But I doubt she will. All I'm hoping for is an admission that it is in the library at all. We'll try to get it via Snape, if she does."

"So ask him in the first place," Gregory said impatiently.

Blaise felt a little guilty about ignoring him for so long. He'd been trying to help him with a spell they'd learned in Charms last week. For some reason Gregory just couldn't get this one right and it worried him a lot more than the childhood of Salazar Slatherin. Blaise had never been able to teach him any appreciation for history beyond passing the class. It really was a pity that they didn't have a proper History of Magic teacher.

"Snape's in France." Draco pouted.

"With my father," Loki explained.

"Ah," said Gregory.

"Well, I've got to help Greg first and it's almost dinnertime," Blaise decided. "I'll do it tomorrow."

They looked more disappointed than he'd expected. Since when was Draco this interested in history?

"Can't you go after dinner?"

"And pretend to have read several chapters and at least looked through the shelves before going to Pince? It'll be curfew by then and she'll just tell me to go to bed and save it for tomorrow."

At least they didn't try to push him into skipping dinner. His friends needed to learn some patience. The library and book, if it actually was in there, would still be there tomorrow.

 

"You're absolutely sure you want to go with Stardust?" Beavertail asked Greypony one last time as they were saying their farewells just as stiffly as their greetings.

Raven wished he knew just what had happened between the French and Spanish clans that the French were so eager to exclude them from the reunion. It wouldn't have been so obvious, if the objections had originated from Acornlight. The younger clan-master clearly despised the Spanish clans for being afraid of facing the Templars. Raven didn't give a paw-shake for his opinion.

Beavertail, though favouring an aggressive stance as well, was more down to earth and had even tried to instil fear of the Templars in Greypony to keep him from going to Spain. He had to be aware that his plans could only profit from a larger number of cats behind them, so the only logical conclusion was that he expected the Spanish clans to be problematic.

Why didn't he want to say right out what it was that worried him, though? Why make up all kinds of obvious excuses?

It worried Raven more than he wanted to admit, but he'd made a promise to the Fire-Lady and it wasn't fair to exclude two clans without a good reason. Despite all of Acornlight's slurs and all of Beavertail's warnings he had not been able to make out any such reason at all, though. The only message he could discern was: 'We don't like them.'

Saying good-bye to Acornlight, like every exchange of formalities with that cat, was an awkward and almost embarrassing procedure. He'd been completely comfortable with it with Mistwalker and probably would have felt the same now, if it had been only Stardust and Beavertail. Acornlight was bristling again, though, making it obvious that the whole thing went against his grain. He'd rather fight Raven than sniff him.

It'd feel good to sink his claws into the arrogant idiot's fur. They both were responsible for their clans, though and so much depended on their getting along. If they were just any two cats, he was sure they'd have been rolling in a tangle of claws, fangs and flying fur long before now.

Oh well, just get it over with in as dignified a manner as possible and in a few hours he'd be back at Hogwarts where there might be people he disliked as well, but not to the point of wanting to claw their eyes out.

Except of course for the Templar.

His greeting might have turned out a little curt, but he supposed that Acornlight was already too offended by his very existence to consider it further insult and he still had Greypony to say good bye to which now that he thought about it wasn't as easy as it seemed. Up to now they had all been very formal, but it didn't seem right to offer a ritualistic sniffing to Greypony. In fact he couldn't remember ever exchanging truly formal greetings with him at all. The grey had a clear preference for more casual interaction, though he'd demonstrated his ability to be formal with both Mistwalker and the French cats.

Raven turned to look at Greypony tilting his head ever so slightly. Most likely Greypony was familiar enough with his body language to recognise the question.

Greypony's ears perked up happily, whiskers spread in a mischievous smile and then he jumped forward and gave Raven's face and ears a good, thorough licking. Shoot Beavertail's formality. This was just between the two of them. Too bad Raven couldn't see the others' tails or faces with Greypony's head in front of his eyes.


	21. Chapter 20: Heresy And Murder Plots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Dustcloud surprised me in this chapter. I never expected him to go this far.

Chapter 20: Heresy And Murder Plots

 

Raven had expected to be overrun by kittens the moment he returned. Due to the experience gained from his earlier absences he'd also expected to find several notes from his students and co-workers informing him of unsolved problems that had occurred over the weekend. What he hadn't expected was to find human children camping outside his door, especially not Gryffindors.

Well, the Weasley twins he could believe. The third Gryffindor however ...

"Miss Granger?" Though very studious this girl didn't normally come to him with questions outside of class.

"Good Morning, Professor," she replied blushing and tried to disappear behind Firewheel.

Maybe she was only accompanying her friend? In that case he needed a way to get rid of her or the talk about his trip would get very awkward.

He'd have nailed the girl down right away, but the rest of the campers seemed to consider the greeting a signal to attack.

"Morning!"

"Professor ..."

"... book ..."

"... bathroom ..."

"... Lupin ..."

"Silence!" he hissed at them and vanished their voices with a, slightly over-dramatic he had to admit, wave of his wand.

The youngest students looked panicked, the oldest dismayed, Granger rolled her eyes impatiently and the kittens glared at him. In their opinion such treatment clearly was for humans.

"Now," he announced calmly. "Let's try this one at a time. Mr. Hennesey?"

He released them all at once, but except for a few yelps there was silence until Slytherin second year Raphael Hennesey managed to regain control of himself.

"Our bathroom needs repairing," the boy finally gasped. "It stinks."

"It stinks?" Probably a clogged toilet. "So why are you telling me? Repairs are Mr. Filch's job. Tell him and he'll assign a house-elf." Or tend to the matter himself, if he felt like it, but it wouldn't be proper of a student to ask for that. "Miss Davison?"

The sixth year Slytherin prefect looked at him haughtily. "Professor Lupin is an asshole, Sir," she reported.

"As fascinating as that information is, Miss Davison, I recommend you watch your language when talking about your teachers," he returned calmly. It never paid to lose one's cool with the older Slytherins. "Care to elaborate?"

"He made us go to bed and turn off the lights at ten!"

The others nodded confirmation of that horrid crime.

"I suppose that's Gryffindor custom," Raven shrugged it off. "You can't expect every teacher to stick to internal Slytherin deals."

"But that's not fair! We were going to ..."

"Then make a deal with Professor Lupin next time. I'm not going to ask him to do anything outside the school rules." He was annoyed at being swamped the moment he got home. At a better time he might have promised to inform Remus of the Slytherin customs. "Miss Granger?"

"Um ..." the girl hedged. "Well, Loki and I have been working on this project. It's about the founders and Hogwarts."

"They were researching Salazar," Rascal interrupted. "And Granger found a reference to a book. Here," he tore a book out of Blaise Zabini's hands and held it open. It's supposed to be about the founders' childhood, but Granger couldn't find it in the library. We think it's restricted, because it contains information about you-know-what."

"But we're all so very interested in the founders," Blaise added. "And you know that we're responsible and mature students and we were hoping that maybe, if you were to ask Madame Pince, we might be allowed to read some of it. Maybe under supervision?"

Granger shot Blaise a glare. Clearly 'some of it' and 'under supervision' had been no more part of her plan than of those of the kittens.

"The book isn't in the catalogue?" Raven asked the Gryffindor. She seemed most likely to thoroughly check there before coming to him.

She shook her head. "No, but Malfoy and Zabini say that they've seen other books that aren't in there either in the restricted section. We thought that maybe they're meant only for teachers."

Severus shook his head, glanced up and down the corridor, then at the remaining students. It wasn't actually a secret, just something they'd not have the students talking about in every corridor. Knowing that something was forbidden or hidden usually provoked many of them to try to get at it and getting caught attempting to steal those books would get them into serious trouble.

"Not quite," he admitted. "Come inside." He waved them into his office and shut the door. "Those books that aren't in the catalogue," he explained sitting down at his desk. "Were removed from the library according to a deal between Hogwarts, the ministry and the Templar order. They were originally supposed to be destroyed as heretic on the order of the ministry, but the Hogwarts librarian of the time objected to burning them for moral reasons. Because the books also represented a financial value the ministry finally agreed to keeping them in the restricted section, but they are practically under the direct control of the Temple. If your book is indeed one of those any request for it must be reported to the Grand Master. I do not want that kind of attention."

"And they probably wouldn't hand it over to you either," Granger stated with a sigh. "At least not if Sir Saint Aignon's attitude represents that of the whole order."

She was quite observant for a thirteen-year-old.

"I advise you not to try and sneak a peek into one of those books either," he warned remembering the long list of offences Mr. Filch kept on the Weasley twins. "The possible consequences of getting caught are far worse than mere expulsion."

"I asked Madame Pince for the book," Blaise admitted his face white with fear. "Do you think they'll come for me now?"

"You asked based on this quote?" Severus pointed at the book Rascal was still holding.

Blaise nodded.

"And did you mention that you thought it was restricted?"

Blaise shook his head. "I said I was researching Helga Hufflepuff and that the book looked like it'd have interesting information."

"Then Madame Pince probably reported just that. It might be a good idea to write an essay about Helga Hufflepuff as a cover and hand it in to Professor Binns for extra credit. You should at least have a first draft ready, if Saint Aignon asks you about it."

"Hand it in to Binns?"

"Yes," Severus confirmed amused at the incredulous look of his student. "The ghost is forgetful enough to make the story credible even if he denies it and if you actually get extra credit for it so much the better." Most likely Binns would confirm assigning the essay rather than admit that he didn't recognise Blaise's name at all and of course the Templar was aware of Binns' habit of confusing his students' names. If he even went so far as to ask Binns for confirmation. Hopefully he had more important things to do than double-check whether an essay he'd already seen was actually assigned.

"So what brings you here then Misters Weasley?" He turned to the twins still hoping to get rid of the other students so he could talk with the kittens in private.

"We," George grinned at him triumphantly. "Are here for detention."

"Here's the slip," Fred added happily. "Mr Filch seems to have misplaced it, but luckily we found it."

"And being the responsible students that we are," George continued. "We came right over for our punishment."

In other words they either wanted an extra lesson or were here to steal potions ingredients, though they might also be looking for an alibi. Unfortunately there were no dirty cauldrons left to scrub. He considered setting them to sort ingredients, but that would make a theft too easy and he didn't have the time to supervise them that closely, so he set them to brewing asthma potion for Fiona in the classroom where they could only get at the students' cupboard as long as he kept the storeroom locked.

As he went to get the required ingredients that weren't available in the classroom his thoughts drifted back to the book Granger and Blaise had been after. If it really was a heretic text in the Hogwarts library, maybe there was a way to find out without anyone noticing. Madam Pince was used to him researching dark spells and potions and trusted him enough to leave him to work on his own or even supervise students there when she was needed elsewhere.

The heretic texts were kept on the last shelf in the back of the restricted section right across from the medieval books most of which were too outdated to be requested frequently. It shouldn't be hard to take a quick glance at the titles under the cover of getting a medieval potions text for academic purposes.

In fact ... Severus smirked to himself. Let's see whether an old spy couldn't trick one closed minded Templar after all. It'd be a small risk, if he played it right.

 

Firewheel and Luna met up at the bottom of the main stairs exactly at midnight. Despite all her experience hunting and searching for herbs Firewheel was too afraid to sneak into a still unfamiliar forest alone and in the dark. Even just sneaking through the castle to meet her friend was scary enough to make her heart hammer loudly in her ears. Asking Loki or Rascal along had been too embarrassing and would have violated Dustcloud's order not to let Raven or any member of another clan know how she sent her reports.

Taking Luna with her was a risk, but being clanless like herself the younger kitten wasn't technically a member of another clan and as long as she kept her report entirely in German she wasn't giving away any dangerous knowledge. All she'd told Luna was that she was going to send a message to a Catar in Germany. It seemed completely innocent to her. Surely Luna would think they were merely doing it at night and in the forest to make sure they weren't caught by humans.

"Oh Firewheel!" Luna sounded no less nervous than she felt. "I almost ran into Filch on the first floor. I think he'll come down here next. It looked like he was just distracted by chasing the poltergeist."

"Peeves?" Fiewheel asked. "Good, that'll probably keep him busy for a while. Come on."

They tip-toed across the entrance hall and Firewheel pushed the heavy door open just far enough for two slim girls to slip through. It squeaked, but hopefully Filch was too far away to recognise the sound.

The grounds were dark and empty and smelled faintly of freedom and home.

"We should keep to the right," Luna suggested. "That way we won't get too close to Hagrid's hut."

There wasn't even a light in Hagrid's window and Luna's route would take them across the wide open Quidditch field in the light of the full moon, but staying on the pass would take them straight past Hagrid's door and the first trees seemed nearer to the right. As soon as they'd passed the first line of trees they'd be safe from wizards' eyes.

"We'll use the group of trees right behind the Quidditch field," Firewheel decided. "They're closest."

"You do know that there are werewolves in the forest, right?" Luna asked nervously.

"We've got claws," Firewheel returned, but still cast a nervous glance up at the moon above them. A werewolf's drive to attack only reacted to humans, so she'd most likely be safe in her cat-form, but Luna couldn't transform yet and it wasn't unheard of werewolves to risk a fight with a Catar, if they felt in a position to win. She'd have to defend her friend with untried teeth and claws, if she were attacked.

"They probably won't come this close to the castle," Luna reassured herself. "And we're not going far, right?"

"No, not far at all," Firewheel confirmed. Right behind the first trees ought to be enough after all. She didn't want to go further and they both needed their sleep.

She felt much too visible crossing the Quidditch field under the light of the full moon and then a painful howl tore through the silence of the night.

"See," Luna said. "I told you there are werewolves and this one sounds like he's right on the grounds."

"It's an acoustic illusion," Firewheel assured her. "He just sounds closer because it's so silent and we're nervous. The wind blew the sound right at us, that's all."

"Yes, yes of course. That must be it," Luna said, but remained so close to Firewheel that she thought she could feel her shiver.

And were those two heartbeats hammering in her ears?

Firewheel pulled Luna behind the first bush they passed. "Here, this will do. I'll just conjure a water elemental from the snow and give it my message. It won't take more than a minute or two."

In her nervous state it actually took three minutes, but Luna was way too impressed by the advanced magic to criticise. The water element wouldn't have been Firewheel's first choice. She was better at summoning fire elementals, but as Dustcloud had pointed out the firelight was likely to attract attention and, if he didn't happen to have a fire going when she sent a message it would be delayed and no direct exchange would be possible. The best suited element for secret messages would have been air, but Firewheel hadn't yet learned how to conjure an actual elemental from it and just manipulating air would be insufficient for the purpose. So they'd agreed on water. Dustcloud was likely to at least carry a water flask, if he wasn't near a well or lake.

Finally the small winged creature took shape and Firewheel mumbled a hasty greeting before sending it to Germany with a summary of what Raven had told her of the French clans.

"Can we go now?" Luna might have been awed by the appearance of the elemental, but she was also scared and something was snuffling and rattling in the bushes. Firewheel was almost completely sure that it sounded like a hedgehog searching for food, but with the memory of the werewolf's howl every sound was spooky.

"We have to wait for a reply first. He might want to know more."

"About what? How you're doing in school?"

Firewheel winced. "No, it's ... about the cats here, actually. I think it's dangerous knowledge. He said not to tell anyone else."

Luna stared at her wide-eyed, but then the water-elemental was back.

"Diese neuen Katzen sind Kriegsclans?" it repeated Dustcloud's question.

"Ja, Raven sagt, dass sie sogar einen Gegenangriff auf die Templer planen," Firewheel confirmed. Was this it? Had she done well? Would Dustcloud reward her for finding out? Or would he ask for more, for information she didn't have and be disappointed?

The elemental disappeared again, but returned in less than a minute.

"Es ist zu gefährlich," it reported. "Du musst Raven und Greypony töten, damit sie unser Versteck nicht verraten können."

Firewheel's eyes flew wide in horror. "Nein! Das ist Mord! Das kann ich nicht!" Raven had been so kind to her!

The elemental flickered and for a moment she thought it had left to report her refusal, but then it was back and growing into a big shape made of icy water. It reached out with one hand covering her mouth and nose before she fully understood what was happening.

Firewheel tried to scream, to claw at it, but her throat only produced a weak gurgling sound clogged with ice-water, or possibly even ice as it was, and her claws went harmlessly through the liquid body.

"Aaahhhh!" she heard Luna shriek in horror. "No! Let go of her! Help!" It sounded so far away and then everything went black.

 

Luna's first impulse was to run, but then Firewheel fell to the ground and the horrid monster bent over her clearly trying to drown her. She couldn't leave her best friend to be murdered no matter how horrid the monster. She had to at least try to fight it off. If she could get it to let go of Firewheel, maybe she'd wake up and be able to banish it.

Firewheel's fruitless attempt had proven that claws were useless, but water should respond to her magic, especially if she urged it to follow its natural inclinations. She had no idea how to banish an elemental any more than how to summon it, but her father had taught her how to direct the elements.

She grabbed for all the magic she could reach and directed it to urge the water to flow downward, away from Firewheel. The monster shuddered and flowed back, but didn't show any signs of flowing apart.

"Help!" she called desperately. "Hagrid!" Oh, if they'd only taken the path that led by his hut!

There was a crack and then a splash as what had to be a werewolf threw itself into the water-monster.

She was going to die! There was no way she could beat both of these attackers. Luna screamed in naked terror and all reasonable thought vanished from her brain along with the control of magic she'd been learning since early childhood.

The water-monster disappeared in a flash of uncontrolled magic and the next thing she knew Hagrid was beside them and picking up Firewheel.

"Oh, poor little girl," he said. "But don't you worry. Madam Pomfrey will revive her in a moment, you'll see."

"There was this water-monster," Luna told him as she stumbled along beside him on the way back to the castle. "And a werewolf."

"A water-monster and a werewolf?" Hagrid asked in the calm voice one used with frightened animals. "Oh no, Dumbledore would never allow that."

Professor McGonagall met them at the door. "A water-monster attacked us," Luna told her as well.

"Must have fallen asleep outside and had a nightmare about monsters and wolves, the poor little darling," Hagrid explained to the professor. "Don't know what's wrong with the other one."

"Oh Fiona," McGonagall gently touched her cheek. "Probably an asthma attack. Miss Lovegood must be in shock from seeing her nearly suffocate. That's why she's babbling nonsense."

"No, there was a werewolf," Luna insisted.

"Oh no, dear." That was Professor Sprout. When had she arrived on the scene? And where was Professor Flitwick? Shouldn't her own head of house be here as well? "That wasn't a werewolf. Not this close to the castle. You probably just saw Moony. He's a dog from the village that just looks a lot like a big wolf."

"Oh, poor children," Hagrid sniffled, but didn't stop on his way to the hospital wing. "They must have seen the dog and the poor little girl fainted from fear."

"No, it was the water-monster!"

"Sure," Professor McGonagall smiled sternly down at her. "And it'll make a great story for the Quibbler."

They didn't believe her, but at least Madame Pomfrey got Firewheel to breathe normally again and look a little less pale. Apparently drowning was very similar to an asthma attack, because Madame Pomfrey, too, mistook it for one, but the charms and potion helped anyway.

Luna herself was told to drink a calming drought and then they started asking her questions.

"We," She couldn't tell them that they'd conjured an elemental or that they'd been sending a message to a Catar. "I was going to show Fiona a Skerkuffle. They're these little furry creatures you can only see on snow under the full moon."

Now nobody was going to believe that there was a water-monster out there. She could only hope that it didn't come back. Then again she'd learned from the moment she could talk that hiding any information about Catar was more important than the truth or being believed.

Professor McGonagall was quite content to make up the rest of the story. They'd snuck out, caught a glimpse of Moony the dog instead of the desired imaginary beast, mistaken him for a werewolf and panicked. Fiona's fear had provoked an asthma attack and scared and unable to help her friend Luna had lost control of her magic which had caused the flash that had alerted Hagrid.

The Transfigurations teacher took fifty points each off Ravenclaw and Gryffindor for breaking curfew. Luna sighed and accepted it. She'd suffer for loosing her housemates' points, but there was nothing she could do about it now. At least Firewheel would be fine.

 

Raven slipped from the scene in the hospital wing as soon as he was sure that Firewheel would live. Much as he worried for his kitten, she was officially a Gryffindor and a stranger. It would seem odd for the head of Slytherin to care. He'd had to stay in the background.

He wished he could have questioned the Lovegood girl, but she wasn't one of his own either, nor was she at all trustworthy. Water-monsters, werewolves and Skerkuffles? He was almost sure that she'd seen Lupin. The werewolf must have decided to stretch his paws on the grounds where it had seemed completely safe with everybody asleep inside and the wolfsbane potion keeping him in control of his body.

What had Firewheel and Lovegood been doing outside in the first place, though and why would Firewheel choke at the sight of a werewolf? Lovegood was the one who had cause to fear an attack, not Firewheel with her agile and well armed cat-form.

Maybe he could catch Poppy before she went back to sleep and ask for a better explanation. That she'd confirmed an asthma attack when she'd been the one to invent Fiona's asthma in the first place was suspicious.

 

At breakfast the next morning the great hall was buzzing with rumours. There were tales of death eater attacks, of werewolf packs, demons ... Ron Weasley was loudly explaining to the turned backs of his classmates how an army of Catar had attacked Hogwarts in the night when Firewheel arrived at the table.

She'd been planning to sneak in as inconspicuously as possible, but this rumour was just to dangerous.

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed forcing her voice to be loud and steady. "Luna and I snuck out and I had an asthma attack. I was out of potion so Luna had to call Hagrid for help. Then she saw a dog and mistook him for werewolf in the dark. The rest is all made up."

"An asthma attack?" Ron snapped at her. "You lost us fifty points for an asthma attack?"

"It was a serious attack," Neville defended her. "Fiona could have died."

"And what were you doing out there in the middle of the night and without your potion anyway?" Hermione asked. "It's against school rules."

"We just ... You all keep telling me about all those adventures you've had sneaking outside or into the library and the kitchens. Why can't Luna and I have an adventure, too?" It was so unfair to be blamed for sneaking out when everybody else was always boasting about it.

"We don't get caught at it," Harry pointed out.

"And we don't have asthma," Lavender added. "You should have at least remembered to take your potion."

"I did!" Firewheel claimed. "I just didn't realise the vial was almost empty!"

"Well, you should have checked. One always has to be sure one is prepared," Ron lectured. "Responsible people do not lose points for no good reason."

Firewheel hung her head in shame. Now she'd not only lost all her hopes for ever returning home, she'd also lost her human friends. If only she could have told them why she'd really gone outside and what had happened, they'd probably forgive her, but then they'd know what she was and the Templar would come for her. She wasn't sure she could stay silent about the clan, Raven or even Luna under torture.

"And just what is your current total for the year, little brother?" a cheerful voice asked. "Have you passed 200 yet?"

Thank the gods for the Weasley twins and their detention records. The inevitable confrontation between the four Weasley boys was at least going to keep the others' attention away from her for a while. Maybe long enough that she could grab a few slices of toast and make her escape.

"Miss Wheeler? Please follow me."

How did Raven manage to sneak up on her like that? Being soft pawed was one thing, but how was it possible that she never noticed his aura until he was right next to her? If Hermione hadn't assured her that it was impossible inside Hogwarts, she would have be sure that he'd just apparated behind her.

"Yes, Sir." Well, so much for breakfast. She probably deserved to go hungry, though.

"So, what really happened out there yesterday?"

What should she tell him? Dustcloud had forbidden her to let Raven know how they communicated, but then, how obliged was she to follow him anymore?

"I went outside to send a report back to Germany," she began stalling for time. "Your meeting with the French clans was a big event and I thought Lord Dustcloud ought to be informed."

"And you took Luna Lovegood with you?" Raven glared at her.

"I ... It felt unsafe to go alone. I wanted someone to watch for ... I was afraid to be caught by a human. Hagrid or Filch might have been around. So somebody had to watch the path while I talked to Dustcloud."

"A second year Ravenclaw?"

"Well, I couldn't possibly have told a human and Dustcloud had specifically forbidden letting a member of another clan watch, so I couldn't ask Loki or Rascal. Luna is clanless like myself, though. All she had to do was warn me, if she saw anybody. It's not like I was expecting a fight."

Raven tilted his head and closed his eyes for a moment concentrating on something else apparently. Firewheel couldn't tell what. Maybe he'd set some sort of alarm to warn him if anybody approached the door.

"You were going to talk to Dustcloud, not send him a bird," Raven said finally. "How?"

"I ..." Raven was the only adult cat she had left in the world now. She had to tell him. "I summoned a water-elemental. I can summon corporeal water and fire elementals, but wasn't supposed to let you know."

"And then?"

"Dustcloud sent it back to ask whether the French clans were warriors. I told him yes and the elemental came back and said ..." She sobbed. How could this even have happened? How could Dustcloud have ever asked this of her? "It said to kill you and Greypony. I'm no murderer! I kill to eat, but not ... not ..."

"Of course," Raven purred softly.

It was a pleasant and calming sound, but how could he be so relaxed about what she'd just told him?

"You expected it?" she gasped.

"No," he admitted. "But I didn't have a good feeling about Dustcloud from the start and I am a warrior. I was trained to kill in battle, have killed before and have had others try to kill me. In war you get used to the idea."

"I don't want to," she sobbed. "I don't ever want to kill another person."

He nodded. "That's alright. A lot o people feel like that and I always thought you had the talents of a hunter anyway. You should make use of them."

She nodded as well. "I like hunting. Always thought I'd be a hunter someday."

Raven smiled. "Then I don't see what you're worried about."

"It's a bit pathetic, isn't it?" He was a warrior after all.

"Wanting to be a hunter, you mean? Why? It's a vital function for the survival of the clan. Most of the leaders of our clan were hunters, I think."

"But all the current clanmasters are warriors."

"I thought Dustcloud was a hunter," Raven returned still purring. "I know Greypony and Mistwalker are. Stardust probably is one as well. I can ask about the others when I met Mistwalker on the weekend, but I always thought the hunters were the dominant function of this age."

"You became a warrior," she insisted.

"I had the skills for it just like you have the skill for hunting. Besides I got tangled up in a wizarding war s a kitten and the clan had enough hunters at the time. It seemed to make sense to become a warrior then." He gave her an oddly considering look. "It's a different situation now, though. If the clan is to survive, what it needs most now is a hunter. Unfortunately Rascal has shown little aptitude for it."

"I'm sorry," she said, though she wasn't sure what she was apologising for. Maybe Rascal's lack of talent, or perhaps having just the talent Raven needed from Rascal, or maybe she was just apologising for Dustcloud and his lack of basic moral decency. Or perhaps she was apologising for existing. Nobody had ever wanted or needed her, so just why had she been born? "Anyway, I told the elemental that I wouldn't do that and it ... it attacked me. I don't know what happened next. The last thing I remember is Luna calling for Hagrid. Then I woke up in my room and Madam Pomfrey told me to say that I'd had an asthma attack and Luna mistook a dog for a werewolf."

"What became of the elemental?" Raven asked. "Hagrid did mention the ... dog, but not the elemental."

"I don't know. It was drowning me when I blacked out and I never saw a dog."

"He must have tried to help you," Raven explained. "But there isn't much a dog can do to an elemental."

"I suppose Hagrid must have banished it somehow," Firewheel decided. There were wizarding spells for banishment after all, even though she wasn't sure to what extent they were suitable for elementals.

Raven shook his head. "Hagrid doesn't have a wand, nor is he likely to know any advanced magic. He understands most magical creatures well, but elementals are completely outside of his experience."

"Maybe Dustcloud told it to flee, if a wizard showed up. I'll ask Luna what happened."

"Do that. It might return to attack again, if it is still corporeal in our world. And don't summon any water elementals on your own again. In fact, it might be best not to do any summonings at all at the moment. Stay with your wizard friends when you aren't with me or the other kittens. Dustcloud still wants us dead, but he probably won't strike in front of witnesses."

"He'd come here to kill us?" Oh no, no, no! She'd always admired Dustcloud and tried so hard to impress him.

"I doubt it. He seems to be very opposed to travelling. He will try to reach us from afar, probably via elementals as he seems to be in the habit of using them as his tools."

Firewheel shuddered. Somewhere deep inside she'd always expected to be adopted by the clan in the end and now they were out to kill her instead. How could one become a hunter, or anything at all, if there was no clan to hunt for?

 

"Are you absolutely sure that it isn't a mistake?" Albus asked Sir Fulko once again. This just didn't seem right. "Have you asked Poppy? Maybe she was in the hospital wing on those two Sundays. Or maybe there's a mistake on the list."

"What use is the list, if you aren't going to believe it?" Sir Fulko snapped. "And why would the same girl accidentally be missed twice?"

"Very well, but do talk with Poppy before you alert her parents," Albus insisted. "The Weasley children have always been very diligent church attendees. It seems so unlikely that Ginevra Weasley of all students would skip mass."

The relationship between the Templar and the nurse seemed to have deteriorated to the point that they were no longer talking at all.

"I still insist that ..."

The sudden arrival of Severus Snape saved Albus from the rest of the tirade.

"Oh, forgive me, Sir Saint Aignon, I didn't mean to interrupt," Severus looked so contrite that even Albus almost believed him. "I merely wanted to ask the headmaster's permission to do some research for the order. It can wait."

He wanted permission to research? Severus researched order business without special permissions all the time. Or did he need a reference to gain access to a restricted book in the ministry's library?

"No problem, Severus," he assured the Potions teacher. "We were merely discussing a minor school issue."

"The immortal soul of a twelve year old girl is not a minor issue!" Sir Fulko yelped.

"Sir Fulko, two missed services will not irredeemably condemn the child. If Voldemort takes over, however, a whole generation of wizards might be raised to be heartless murderers," Albus reminded the Templar. "Now, what exactly do you need, Severus?"

"Well, not need precisely, but I think we should take a closer look at the matter of Salazar Slytherin's wand," Severus explained. "As you know Slytherin was a Catar and as Sir Saint Aignon probably knows better than me, Catar do not require wands."

"Yes, Remus informed us of your doubts in that matter," Albus confirmed. "But he also has a point with his own theory that Slytherin may have used a wand to teach human children."

"It is a possibility," Severus allowed. "As is that Voldemort is actually on the trail of some other magical tool of Slytherin's, something that might be a lot more dangerous than a wand that is unlikely to suit him. I have spent some time thinking about the problem since my return from France and remembered that there are some texts written by the founders or people who knew them in person in the restricted section of the library. If Salazar Slytherin had a wand or some more unusual magical tool, there should be mention of it somewhere."

"That is an excellent idea, Severus." Albus beamed at the Potions teacher. "But are you sure that you have enough time for this?"

There was a hint of a dismayed frown on Severus' face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. What was that about?

"Which is why I'd like to ask you for the assistance of Remus Lupin."

Ah, of course, Severus still wasn't entirely comfortable with the werewolf and requesting his help had to rankle.

"Of course, Severus. I'm sure he'll be delighted to help."

"I also wanted to make sure that you are aware that that research will have to include some outright heretic texts and that we can't conduct it entirely in the library."

"You want to remove heretic texts from the library!" Sir Fulko shouted. "That is out of the question!"

"I need to remove some highly restricted texts from the library, preferably to my private rooms where I can research without the risk of students seeing them. This doesn't necessarily have to include the heretic texts. Some of the time I can set aside for my research will be during the normal opening hours of the library. It shouldn't be a problem to arrange it so I can read the heretic texts at the normal study desk in the restricted section, if I save the less risky material to study in my rooms after hours."

Albus had never seen the Templar's face this white before.

"At the same desk as the students! Then anyone studying in the restricted section could see! There' no preventing them from peeking when they're right next to you and even worse they might sneak up behind you and read over your shoulder!"

"Only students who have been granted access to the restricted section," Albus pointed out. "They will be mature young wizards and witches and hard at work on their essays with no time to waste on off topic reading."

"Young souls easily tempted," Sir Fulko countered. "No, no, if you are going to search heretic texts, I insist that you do so only in your rooms and keep the door locked at all times. Only take them out one at a time and make sure they are safely locked away whenever you aren't reading them."

Severus hesitated. "I suppose they should be well protected in the safe I used to hide my Death Eater mask in," he said finally.

"Yes, the Templar agreed. "That should be adequate. Just don't keep them anywhere else."

"Of course. Thank both of you." Severus bowed and slipped out the door again.

Albus smiled happily to himself. Just why did he have the feeling that the Templar had just been masterfully played? Severus hadn't even known that Sir Fulko was in here when he'd arrived and what reason would he have to manipulate Sir Fulko into letting him research Slytherin's wand?

"Very well," Saint Aignon sighed and straightened out his white mantle. "What were we talking about again?"

"I believe you just said you were going to ask Poppy whether Ginevra Weasley was sick on the two Sundays she didn't attend mass." Ah, he almost ought to thank Severus for the timely interruption.

 

"Fifty points, little one," Cho smiled sweetly at her. "Do you even know how much that is?"

"Yes, Cho," Luna whispered. There was a piece of black string on the carpet right in front of her foot.

"I don't think so," Cho said. She was probably grinning. She usually was when she was using this tone. "Someone who understands that they have lost their house fifty points when they never even gain any, would be sorry and someone who's sorry would do something about it and not just flounce into the common room like any other day. Someone who's sorry looks sorry. Do you think she understands?"

There was indeed something Luna didn't understand, but it wasn't the fact that she had no way in the universe to ever regain fifty points for Ravenclaw. It was how being sorry looked. She was pretty sure that trying to slip through unnoticed wasn't flouncing and that she had to look terribly unhappy. She was sorry, too and if she didn't look it she'd gladly have faked it to prove it, but how did one do that?

"No, not at all, Cho." That was Marietta's voice somewhere to her right. "She's lying."

Maybe if one had to fake sorry, one really wasn't sorry, though? Maybe Cho was right and she ought to be made more miserable than she currently already was. Maybe a normal girl would feel differently.

"Yes indeed," agreed Hecate the fifth year prefect. "She's got to be lying. If she were telling the truth, she'd be able to look us in the eyes."

Luna wondered whether they knew that she just couldn't seem to look up from the floor whenever she was scared of people. Then something inside her just demanded that she curl in upon herself. This probably never happened to normal girls either.

"Maybe she is just ashamed," Marietta theorised. "I'd be ashamed, if I didn't know how much fifty is."

"Oh, but little Loony-girl doesn't know what anything is," Cho returned. "Isn't that right Loony?"

Luna shook her head. She knew how much fifty were, she even knew the names and death dates of the last fifty headmasters of Hogwarts and she bet none of the three older girls did. She also knew that Cho was sleeping with Cedric Diggoy from Hufflepuff and wished she'd dare ask her whether her parents had told her about contraceptive potions. And she knew that Marietta sometimes hid in Myrtle's bathroom to cry over her spots and Hecate's mother wouldn't let her choose her own clothes. She also knew that those things were embarrassing for the girls, though and that they might be ridiculed if others found out, so she never told anyone. She just couldn't. No more than she could have sunk her claws into their flesh until they bled and surrendered. One didn't do that. It would be mean. Good normal girls like Cho, Marietta and Hecate didn't deserve to be treated like that.

A normal girl probably wouldn't feel like that either, nor would a normal cat, but Luna wasn't a normal anything. She was just useless Loony Luna Lovegood and she couldn't fight back. It was wrong, after all.

So she just stood there in the middle of the common room making herself as small as possible and staring at the floor until it was over and the girls lost interest.

If she weren't all frozen in fear, she could run away, up the stairs and into the dorm. The boys wouldn't be able to follow and the older girls rarely entered there, but it was probably very bad behaviour and it belonged to the other girls in her year. Much rather Luna would go somewhere where she could be all alone, where nobody could see her. Her bed at home in her room would be exactly what she wanted. She'd make herself very small and pull the covers all over herself and then she'd sleep and hope to never wake up.

There was no way to go home right now, though and she'd have to come back again anyway. It was only February and she had to attend school until July in three years. At Hogwarts there was no safety or home for a wrong girl like her. One could never be alone here. There was no place that didn't belong to someone else. She just had to live through it. Or make an end, but killing oneself probably hurt and she was too much of a coward anyway.

She'd get to go home for a few days at Easter. That was a short time goal to cling to, if only this situation would somehow pass. It seemed like they'd been talking at her for an eternity.

"Well, you see, little Loony," Cho crooned. "Losing fifty points is a bad, bad thing. We know that's hard for you to understand, but it's important that you do."

"We need to make it more obvious to her," Marietta declared.

"Yes, as responsible friends we have a duty to teach her," Hecate agreed. "Because we care for little Loony, don't we girls?"

"Yes indeed," Cho agreed. "We will have to punish you, because we care. You do understand that, don't you, Loony?"

Luna said nothing. After all what was there to say? They were being friendly, so she couldn't yell at them. They weren't attacking her, so it would be wrong to hex or slap them. The prefects would have the duty to take points and that would only prove that they were in the right and she didn't understand the severity of her transgression.

Oh, if only she hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw! But then she'd be in another house and would have lost them points, so it wouldn't solve anything either.

A sob escaped her.

"Oh, is little Loony crying again?" Marietta asked. "Are those false tears running?"

Another sob and Luna curled in tighter. Please somebody make them stop. Make it be over already.

For once her pleas were answered. There was the sound of the secret entrance opening up behind her and the noise level in the room suddenly lowered. Someone walked up to them. Luna didn't dare to look up.

"Miss Chang and Miss Dorals, if I could have a moment?" That was Professor Flitwick's voice.

"Is something wrong?" Hecate asked worriedly.

"Wrong? Oh no, I was merely wondering about the Qudditch practise schedule and the Chess club's party."

"Oh that, sure Professor," Cho said. "We'll continue this some other time, Loony."

Relieved Luna nodded, sobbed one last time and fled up the stairs. It had to be her lucky day, because there was nobody in the second year dorm.

Luna threw herself onto her bed, drew the curtains closed and cried for a while until she heard laughter from the corridor. Someone was coming up the stairs. She suppressed her tears right away. If they heard her crying, they'd know she was here. If she didn't make a sound, though, they wouldn't pull back the curtains to check. She knew that from experience.

Whoever it was walked past the door. Luna sat up and pulled in her knees as she listened to their happy voices fade away. How long should she wait until she could be sure it was safe?

She was wearing shoes in bed. She shouldn't do that. It was uncomfortable and would get the sheets dirty.

Very slowly she untied both shoes, loosened them and finally slipped out all the while making sure that she didn't make a sound. Now, where to put them?

There was nobody in the room, so she could just get out of bed, put them away and get back in, but if somebody walked in right then, she'd be caught. If she left them in front of the bed as usual, it would only take a moment and she didn't even have to get out, but then people would see them and know she was in bed. Not that they were likely to disturb her, if they thought she was asleep, but it was a bit too early to sleep.

Very quickly Luna opened the curtains on the side facing away from the door and lowered her shoes down, then pushed them back under the bed. Now they were out of sight, but still readily on hand for tomorrow. She'd just sleep in her clothes tonight, she decided, lay down and closed her eyes.


	22. Chapter 21: Hidden Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Things are still going slowly. This was supposed to have both the Spanish cats and Lightdance, but then Firewheel and Rascal wanted some space ...

Chapter 21: Hidden Things

 

At first sight the Spanish clan-masters were a shock. Both were heavily scarred with ugly white lines running through their fur and cross-shaped bald spots that Greypony really didn't want to think about too deeply. Both ears of the taller one were badly torn, while the other retained only one whole ear. His right ear had been almost completely torn off by the same blow that had taken out his left eye leaving an ugly scar across his whole face.

For a moment Greypony almost regretted not arranging this meeting at a time when he could have brought Raven along, but then he remembered Acornlight. If Raven came to blows with these two, Greypony wasn't sure they'd be able to save themselves, let alone mend fences afterwards. They definitely didn't look like the pathetic cowards the French had described them as.

He was very hesitant when sniffing noses with them, but neither gave any sign of aggression. A certain weary reluctance, yes, but their greetings were polite and uncomplicated. Beavertail had spoken of them as Dewshadow and Lightning, but there was no telling which was which. He wasn't sure whether it really made a difference anyway. Both seemed equally distrusting and scarred and according to Stardust they had been co-leading their village for years without dispute. He wouldn't be surprised, if they finished each other's sentences.

After the first greeting things seemed to get stuck. Greypony sat back on his haunches unsure how to proceed and the Spanish cats regarded him thoughtfully and perhaps a little expectantly.

He shrugged.

Dewshadow and Lightning exchanged a look, glanced around and then as one walked several steps forward, turned at his sides and raising their tails in a follow-me gesture led him away.

Being flanked by two so torn up cats was a rather unnerving feeling and he walked hesitantly even though the gesture seemed more protective than threatening. These cats lived with danger constantly breathing down their backs. Whether it was a real present danger or just the shadows of the horrors in their past Greypony was in no position to judge.

Either way they preferred to seek better cover than the agreed meeting place and as their guest he had to oblige. They were the ones familiar with this land and its dangers. He only hoped they weren't leading him into an ambush.

They slipped through bushes and jumped over rocks for almost an hour the terrain getting rougher and rougher until they were forced into walking single file on a small mountain path. Greypony, still in the middle, was only able to follow the path by watching the steps of the cat in front of him.

There was a soft far carrying purr in the air that seemed to originate somewhere above them. It followed their progress for a while, but the cat never showed himself. An alarm?

The guard, if that was what they were, was well hidden among the rocks. Greypony wouldn't have known where to look for them.

Another, or perhaps even the same, guard slunk out from behind a bush where the path finally grew a little wider again. She too wore several scars, lacking two toes on her right front paw and the tip of her tail, but they weren't as obviously of Templar origin as the cross-shaped burn marks on her leaders.

She approached them with a pleased purr and rubbed her head against each clan-master. Greypony received a quick sniff, fast, but not at all unfriendly. Then she disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.

His guides picked up their pace now and disappeared behind an outcropping of rock. Cautiously Greypony followed and found the entrance to a cave.

He hesitated. Though he was used to huts and human houses he was still a cat and not a bear. Hiding in caves wasn't in his nature.

The shorter clan-master poked his head out of the cave. "Meow?"

"Mrew," he announced his dismay, but followed the other cat inside. A cave couldn't be much worse than Hogwarts.

 

"What I don't understand is why we needed special permission from the headmaster for this," Remus Lupin commented lightly as he ran his fingers along the line of dark medieval books. "I'm the DADA teacher, for God's sake. I sign permission slips to read restricted books everyday."

Severus Snape sighed and cast a quick glance around the corner to make sure Madam Pince and Percy Weasley had returned to the study desk and wouldn't overhear them.

"You couldn't have given me permission to check these," he whispered indicating the bookshelf behind them.

"Ah," Remus nodded. That made sense then. "You think we'll find something there?"

"Maybe, these books are the most likely to contain information on Salazar that isn't well known even among experts."

"So let's start there, then," Remus suggested trying hard and probably failing to hide his excitement. He couldn't help being curious about these most forbidden of texts, though being a werewolf he'd never entertained any hopes of gaining permission to touch them before.

Snape shook his head, though. "Sorry wolf, that permission came with some restrictions."

"Only for you then?" Of course, couldn't trust a werewolf. What else had he expected of the Temple?

"And only alone behind locked doors, one book at a time," Snape added. "We can try to sort out the most promising titles, if you like."

"Without even glancing inside," Remus sighed. It was even harder to be allowed this close, but still denied the final step. These old books didn't even have summaries on the backs.

"We should at least be able to narrow down the choices," Snape said. "This here for example looks completely useless to us."

Remus glanced at the large book Snape was holding up. "The Complete History Of The Order Of The Temple? They consider themselves a heretic subject?"

"Judging from the titles at this end very much so," Snape confirmed. "I wonder how often they burn one of their own."

"Can't be that often. There are still too many of them."

"Do you have a problem with our dear holy men of the church, wolf?" Snape smirked.

"I wouldn't, if they'd finally stop calling me possessed and in need of exorcism. I don't like the survival rates of people that have been exorcised."

"Why not? I believe the survival rates are clearly better than the success rates."

"Or else you'd have dragged me to the next Templar castle yourself long ago." Remus knew that Snape didn't dislike him as much as he pretended to. It was the wolf that bothered him.

Then again Remus couldn't blame him. Unexpectedly coming face to face with an unchecked werewolf in a dark corridor and miraculously escaping being bitten tended to leave people rather disinclined to join werewolf rights movements.

"Maybe," Snape allowed. "Then again, more likely not. There is worse company even than a potion controlled werewolf."

That was an interesting revelation. Sometimes Remus wondered whether anyone at all really liked the Templars, but then they hadn't died out, yet, despite the fact that they had to remain celibate.

"How about this end then?" he suggested. "Centers Of Power, Necromancy And The Worship Of Baal ..."

"Better, but not really a Catar's cup of tea."

"No, probably not," Remus agreed skipping a number of texts on Mesopotamian magic. "Shiva And Quezalcoatlus? What kind of combination is that?"

"Probably just a comparison of Indian and Aztec cultures and religions," Snape shrugged it off. "How about this: Angel Blood, Lucifer's Failed Attempt To Rescue Heaven."

"Okay, that title sure sounds interesting, but somehow I doubt Slytherin cared about Christian angels or devils."

"True, this section seems to deal with Christian heresy, though."

"Isn't all of this Christian heresy?"

"Heresy within Christian mythology and by Christian writers, I mean. Though, if you wish to discuss the question whether a devoted Baal cultist writing about Baal would be committing Baalian heresy, if applying a neutral viewpoint ..."

"I get the point." He had his own opinions about the subject, of course, but it was never wise to discuss such things and discussing with Snape could get extremely unpleasant. Besides they had a task to fulfil and ...

Remus stopped and blinked at the title of the next book. "Perfect!"

"What?"

"I found it: Before Hogwarts, The Early Days Of The Founders."

"You think so?" Snape pulled out the book and turned it over in his hands. "If Salazar got a wand to teach, it would most likely have happened after they founded the school."

"He can't have learned to use it overnight," Remus pointed out. "If the others started teaching him before that, or if we are indeed looking for some other magical tool, it might be in there."

"It's a rather thin book considering that it deals with all four founders," Snape mused. "Doesn't look like much. I doubt Voldemort would have been interested. Then again, it shouldn't take long to check."

He slipped it into his pocket and Remus wondered whether even the librarian knew about the permission to check out heretic books.

In fact, what proof did he have of the permission's existence in the first place? Only Snape's word. Slytherins were known for using all sorts of tricks and lies to reach their ends. Would Severus lie about this, though? Did he dare ask the Templar to verify it? But why should he lie? If it was to better research Slytherin's wand, they were on the same side, after all.

No, best not to attract Saint Aignon's attention. The book they'd picked - no, that he himself had picked, Snape hadn't even wanted it at first – was harmless enough compared to the texts Snape had passed over without a second glance. If Snape were looking for dangerous knowledge, he'd have chosen something different. This was merely research into Salazar Slytherin, just as Snape had told him.

 

"I can't accept this!" he yells at his friends.

Their startled faces only make it worse. Why can't they see the problem? Isn't it obvious?

"I won't," he continues. "Either we are part of this school, or we are not. We are not going to hide."

"It's not about being part of the school, Salazar," Rowena returns calmly. "Of course you are. It is merely a matter of propriety and fairness."

"Fairness?" he hisses. "You call that fair?"

"He has a point there, Rowena," Helga concedes. Maybe there's hope of solving this yet. "Of course it isn't fair that some people can turn into cats and others can't, but neither is it fair that some can enter others' minds and others can't. Some have a talent for cooking and some don't. Some students come here already able to read and others never learn. Some people have more magical power than others, some are stronger, some faster, or taller, or more intelligent. We cannot forbid our students to use the talents they were given just so they will all be at the same level. We must teach them to respect each other's abilities and work together to use them to best effect."

"I thought you were with us on this!"

With us. So they even conspired against him. Not only that, if Rowena meant us the way he thought she did, Godric is in on it as well. Godric! His best friend has turned against him!

"I'm merely saying that it isn't a matter of fairness," Helga retorts. She always is the rock in the ocean of their arguments. "But it's already hard enough to get the Muggle born students to accept that magic isn't the devil's work. They come here traumatised by their families' and friends' reactions to their gifts and are flung into a world of flying brooms and moving stairs. The talking paintings, house elves, self lighting candles, everything scares them and then you expect them to live and sleep next to ungodly creatures that might sink their claws into them at any moment."

"I don't give a dead rat's bones for your god, Helga," he snaps at her. Has she forgotten that they agreed to keep religion out of school affairs? It's supposed to be a private thing. "You've known me long enough by now that you ought to know that."

"It's not about your religion, Paws," Godric says reaching out to lay a hand on his arm as he often does. "It's about theirs."

He pulls away to avoid the contact. He wouldn't be able to take it now and he definitely doesn't want Godric to move on to the next step which is scratching that spot behind his left ear that always makes him purr. This isn't a time for purring.

They are losing the humans. He's known that all his life. It's been going on for a long time now. Christianity's been spreading among them since before he was born. To know this and to see it among his students and now even his own best friends are two different things, though.

He always thought they could be friends despite the different faiths, has thought that it isn't important, but now they are ganging up on him and the ones he's sworn to protect.

He has a duty towards the students of this school as do they all, a bigger duty towards those chosen for his own house, again as the others have towards their houses as well, but beyond that he is indebted to protect the kittens in his care, be they of his house or another, and he has an ancient duty as a high priest and clanmaster to fulfil. Perhaps they cannot understand that. They have few bonds outside the school.

"The Muggle children are all Christians by now," Godric continues. "They don't know your race or religion. Your other shapes are monstrous and their religion tells them to consider monsters creatures of the devil, the ultimate evil. In the name of the safety of the school as a whole as well as the happiness and safety of the individual students we cannot allow any further incidents of this kind. Your people remain in their human form when visiting Hogsmeade so the humans won't panic. This is no different."

Incidents?

"No different?" he yelps. "This isn't the market place of Hogsmeade and I'm not just visiting to shop. This is ... This was my home!"

"I don't know what all the fuss is about," Rowena says. "All we're asking you to do is remain in your proper human form, use a wand to cast magic and keep your blasphemous opinions to yourself. Nobody even suggested that you should leave or attend our Mass. We're even offering to pretend that you're human for God's sake!"

"You are asking us to deny our true nature," he hisses at her. "Asking kittens not to train their newly gained cat bodies and natural magical skills. It would harm their development, if I agreed to such a rule."

They exchange nervous glances. Something feels very wrong here.

"We're not asking you, Salazar," Helga admits finally.

What?

"We're all in agreement, you see," Godric's voice is deceptively gentle. "We'd have liked it to be unanimous, but we don't need your agreement to instate the rule."

He can barely hear the human over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. How foolish of him to befriend these strangers. His parents warned him against growing this close to humans. He should never have given up the Catar lifestyle no matter how promising their ideas sounded.

But he wanted it so much. Bring the kittens together in one place where they all could be taught by the very best teachers, where they could meet and learn to understand humans as well as their own kind. The primary intent was always to further, not hinder, their development and education, though. This is not it. His dream has turned into a nightmare. He doesn't want his kittens to grow up like this. He won't let them. He'll take them home to train in the village as they were always meant to be.

But what of the ones he collected from other clans? It will take a bird several days to reach the Moonflower clan, which is the most distant from here, then again as long for the reply to get back. There will be travel arrangements to make, if their kittens are to be sent home. They are too young to travel that far unaccompanied.

"Give me three weeks to arrange this with the clans," he demands already walking to the door. He doesn't want to see the humans right now, cannot bear to look into their faces.

"Three weeks," Rowena agrees luckily. "But after that anyone caught in the castle without a wand will be punished."

I'll see you punishing the house elves then, he thinks, but doesn't say so. To jest with them now would be laughing off his defeat and he knows that he won't be there to see it anyway. Even if his heart hasn't quite accepted it yet, his head knows that he will have left before the three weeks are up.

Something will have to be done about his human students and any kittens that might wish to remain. Some might decide to finish the school year despite the new rules. If he cannot find a replacement for himself, he will have to split them between the other houses.

Will the others even accept kittens now? And if they do, how will they treat them? Just a few hours ago he might have had doubts about Rowena's fairness towards his kind, but never the others'. How quickly such things change.

And what will become of him now that he has lost his human friends? Where will he go when he is all alone in the world?

But he isn't alone! He has a whole clan he is responsible for. They've been pushing him to return for a long time. It isn't proper for a clanmaster to live this far from his clan.

A clan he's responsible for? How can that be? He never became part of a clan and Dustcloud ...

Firewheel woke up disoriented and confused. What had just happened?

It took her a minute or so to completely return to reality and realised that it had all been a dream. Her name was Firewheel, not Littlepaws and she was a common member of Gryffindor house, not head and founder of Slytherin. Like Littlepaws she was at Hogwarts, but in her bed in the hospital wing, not walking down into the dungeons. Also like him she'd argued with her human friends, but hadn't been thrown out of, or pushed into leaving the school.

Unlike Littlepaws she had no more clan to go to.

But she did have her friend Luna who was born into a clanless family and she had her kind teacher Raven who knew so much about living among humans. Surely those two would be able to show her how a single cat could survive in this world once she'd left school.

She hadn't seen Luna since their encounter with the water elemental, though. It seemed that the younger kitten was avoiding meals and the library to hide from unfriendly humans. She'd been sorted into the house of the studious, not the brave, after all.

Firewheel sighed and resolved to look for Luna in the morning. They really needed to talk.

 

Rascal lay on his belly on his bed, subconsciously waving his feet in the air while he was leafing through a library book about Spain.

"This is boring," he commented to nobody in particular.

"Then why are you reading it?" Blaise asked from behind his Transfigurations text. "You could study for McGonagall's test instead."

Rascal flicked his paws in dismay even though they were currently human legs. He didn't feel like studying Transfigurations at all, nor did he like the thought of having a test in the subject tomorrow morning.

"I don't want to study," he whined. "And I don't want to read about Spain. It's Latvia I'm interested in."

"Then why didn't you get a book about Latvia instead of one about Spain?" Theo asked with a groan.

Draco wasn't surprised by the groan. Theo was unable to learn by heart from reading, so he was currently busy writing down all the Transfiguration spells they'd learned so far this year. No wonder he was grumpy.

"There weren't any books on Latvia," he explained. "And Loki suggested Spain."

"Why Spain?" Blaise asked. "It has nothing in common with Latvia, I think."

From all his history reading Blaise seemed to have a good idea where most countries were, but he wasn't a Geography expert.

"That's where my Dad is now," Loki explained. "Or at least he wrote that he'd go there today."

"Yesterday," Theo corrected with a glance at the clock. "It's two minutes past midnight."

"Oh good," said Vincent. "Can we go to sleep now?"

"Just cast a silencing charm on your curtains, if you want to sleep," Blaise growled.

Vincent sighed and returned to staring blearily at his book. He claimed to be unable to sleep as long as there was any light in the room. It fell though the curtains and into his face, he insisted even though, in Draco's opinion, the curtains were much too thick to allow that much light through.

"What's so interesting about Latvia anyway?" Theo interrupted his thoughts.

"Snape's going there on the weekend," Draco admitted.

"And not taking us," Loki added. "Again."

"So what? From all I've heard it's cold and boring," Blaise told them. "There's nothing much there to see."

"I doubt Snape's going there for the sights," Vincent threw in. "He's probably buying potion ingredients."

"Not very likely," Theo laughed. "Not considering how much he's been travelling lately. There aren't that many ingredients that you can't buy much more comfortably in Hogsmeade."

"They're cheaper in their home countries," Rascal told them quickly. "No shipment fees."

"But instead the hotel costs and the time wasted on he trip." Blaise countered. "I could see Snape do it for one particularly rare and expensive ingredient, but not every second week. He's never left the school during the school year to buy ingredients before. Why start now?"

"Maybe they cut Potions funds?" Rascal suggested hoping to lead Blaise to a boring conclusion that would dissuade him from any further interest in Raven's extracurricular activities.

"No, his trips are probably as expensive as the ingredients," Theo decided. "I think he's meeting people."

"Or maybe he's got a mission," Vincent suggested. Maybe he's spying for the dark lord."

Rascal snorted.

Loki hid his laugh by burying his face in his arm.

"What?" Vincent asked.

"Snape wouldn't work for the dark lord," Blaise explained. "He doesn't agree with him."

"Doesn't agree with him?" Vincent repeated incredulously. "Why ever not?"

"He doesn't like his frivolous use of dark magic," Draco supplied repeating the simplified explanation his father had given him when he'd started Hogwarts. "Says it's unhealthy and should only be employed in exceptional cases when there is no other choice."

"And he doesn't agree with killing Muggles and Mudbloods," Blaise added. "Or the mistreatment of Squibs. He thinks that they too have a place in society."

"Eeewwww!" Vincent frowned.

"It's a valid viewpoint," Blaise argued. "There are way too few pureblood families to fill every necessary job and would you really want to make a pureblood wizard clean our toilets? What would we do without Mudblood shop assistants and Squib servants?"

"Snape's with the dark lord on the basics, of course," Rascal assured them quickly. "He just left him when he thought things were getting too extreme."

"And the dark lord's still pissed off at his betrayal," Blaise added. "So they definitely wouldn't work together."

"Do you think he might be spying for Dumbledore?" Theo asked to Rascal's shock.

Luckily Blaise found that suggestion as funny as Rascal had Vincent's.

"He still agrees with the dark lord on principle, Theo," Blaise gasped through his laughter. "He wouldn't work with the Mudblood lovers. I bet they like him even less than the death eaters do."

"So he's neutral," Theo summed up. "Coward."

"No, he just doesn't agree fully with either side," Rascal corrected. "And frankly, I can understand that. I wouldn't want to do my own cleaning and cooking either."

"I wonder whether Snape might be gathering his own army," Blaise mused. "Think he'd let us join?"

"A bunch of thirteen year olds?" Loki asked him. "Never."

"You're right," Blaise sighed. "We're not even allowed to use magic outside of school. Maybe once we graduate, though."

 

Firewheel finally found Luna in Myrtle's bathroom hiding in the very same stall she had transformed in not so long ago.

"Luna?" she asked cautiously.

The kitten didn't look good. Somebody had hexed her with warts all over her face and there were small wounds on the backs of her hands.

"Hi," she answered faking a smile.

"What happened to you?" Firewheel demanded. "Who did that?"

"Did what? Luna asked sounding honestly perplexed. "Nothing happened."

"What do you mean nothing? Somebody obviously hexed you. Who was it?" Oh, she'd shake the mewling little crawler until they squealed for mercy! How did they dare attack such a sweet little kitten? She'd slap them over the head and hiss at them and ... but they were probably human and she was only clanless, useless Firewheel.

Well, she could still secretly hex them in return. Or maybe Neville would help her. He still liked both of them despite their mistake.

In fact, most of the Gryffindors seemed to have forgotten the incident already even though it had only been three days. Ron remained a bastard, but he always had been and Hermione tended to lecture her about the school rules whenever she got the chance, but otherwise everything was back to normal.

Firewheel did her best to avoid Hermione. She missed her friend, but she just couldn't take the constant feeling of guilt the girl talked into her.

"Some older girls," Luna admitted. "They decided that I don't properly regret losing their points. What does someone look like when they properly regret something?"

For a moment Firewheel just stared at her wondering about the weird question. How did one describe a regretful look?

"Well, I suppose their whiskers and ears would droop. Their tail, too," she said finally. "And they'd hang their head ..."

"But Marietta Edgecomb says that hanging your head means that you're lying," Luna interrupted.

"It does?" That made absolutely no sense at all to Firewheel. "Maybe humans have different body-language like wolves do?"

Firewheel had never met an actual wolf, but dogs and foxes spoke wolf as well. Maybe it was just a bit of Catar snobbishness that she'd been taught the language as Wolf, though.

"I suppose they might," Luna agreed. "They aren't proper cats, after all, even though they share our other shape."

Firewheel sighed. This would be yet another obstacle to her future life among humans.

"Well, I suppose Raven will know," she decided. "Maybe he can teach us."

"Do you think he'd teach me as well?" Luna asked hopefully.

Firewheel thought about that. Rascal had said that Raven had started teaching him after his first transformation and Loki, too had already had his cat form when he'd arrived here.

"Not until you transform, I think," she said and gestured for her friend to precede her out of the stall. "Once you do we can ask him, though." Thinking of Raven reminded her of something else she'd been meaning to talk about with Luna. "Oh, and he wants to know what became of the water elemental. He's worried that it might attack again. Did you see what happened?"

Luna blushed and ducked her head in shame. "I had a burst of accidental magic," she admitted. "It made the monster disappear in a flash of light."

Firewheel blinked. "You banished it?"

Luna shrugged. "I don't know where it went. It was just gone. That's good, isn't it?"

"I don't know, but I guess you must have banished it," Firewheel decided. "But that's very advanced magic for a kitten. We'll have to wait what Raven thinks of it."

Luna nodded. "Where are we going?"

"The hospital wing," Firewheel answered.

"What for?"

"So Madam Pomfrey can fix you, of course."

"Fix me? But this is my punishment. I'm not allowed to have it fixed."

"Your punishment?" Firewheel felt outraged. "On whose authority? That of a couple of simple schoolgirls?"

"One of them is a prefect and ..." Luna hesitated. "Well, they're important girls and older."

"Well, I'm older, too," Firewheel decided. "And my orders are to have it fixed right away."

 

"Oh dear!" Madam Pomfey exclaimed when she caught sight of Luna. "Charms accident or spilled potion?"

"Charms," claimed Luna.

"Neither," said Firewheel. "Luna was deliberately hexed."

"Ah, got into an argument with a Slytherin, did you?"

"No," Luna admitted. "They were some girls from my own house." Her sense of justice wouldn't let her blame an innocent house. "They didn't mean any harm, though. Please don't let them find out that you know."

"Why not?" Firewheel snapped. "They should be punished."

"No!" Luna exclaimed. "This is my punishment for losing points. If I tell and we lose more points, then I'll be punished even worse."

Madam Pomfrey pressed her lips tightly together and cast a diagnostic charm.

"Ah, those are three very nasty little hexes," she told Luna. "But don't fear, I can remove them in just a minute."

"But aren't you going to ask who those girls are?" Firewheel demanded. "You have to report them."

"No, dear," Madam Pomfrey returned with another sad smile. "That would be a very bad idea. For one thing Luna is right. Such bullies always take their punishments out on their victims. What's much more important, though, is that the victims get treated and once it gets out that I reported one of them to the headmaster they will be even more reluctant to come to me than they are now. Besides punishment for losing points has a long tradition in Ravenclaw. Professor Flitwick probably wouldn't appreciate the interference any more than the bullies."

"Wouldn't welcome the interference?" Firewheel gasped. "He's responsible for the well-being of his students. That includes Luna as well as the bullies."

"They say that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger," Madam Pomfrey explained. "If adults step in to help bullying victims, they deprive them of the chance to learn how to defend themselves."

"So now being bullied is good for people?" Firewheel hissed. She couldn't believe this.

"No, but dealing with it themselves is."

The adults were making up excuses, Firewheel finally realised, so they didn't have to step in against the popular children on behalf of the unpopular ones. Were they afraid of the fight, she wondered, or just too lazy and uncaring to want to bother with behavioural problems that didn't affect them personally?

 

At a closer look living in a cave wasn't such a bad idea, if you were a Catar in a hot country like Spain. The lighting was a bit of a problem, but not impossible to solve. In fact waking around the village for the last few hours Greypony had discovered several different solutions from conjured fires to glowing fungi and enchanted stones. The caves were comfortably cool and offered ample room to retreat, though the echoes weren't exactly conductive to a peaceful nap in a side cave while kittens were wrestling in the main cavern.

He supposed the locals had a higher tolerance for noise than he did. The wilderness of Iceland was a quiet place that offered little need for it.

The cats themselves were perfectly civil and treated him with the respect due his clanmaster status, but no more than that. Dewshadow, the smaller dark grey with the horrid scar across his face as it had turned out and Lightning, the tall brown with frayed ears, had promised to thoroughly discuss and consider his suggestion, but not looked thrilled.

His only consolation as he walked around the village familiarising himself with the place and meting the clan-members was that they didn't seem as impolite as Dustcloud. These two were cautious, he decided, and it might well cause them to turn down the invitation to the Stonehenge meeting, but they weren't likely to go to such horrid extremes as Dustcloud had.

Greypony frowned and shook off the thought. Firewheel was fine and Raven would keep an eye on her now that he was warned. No further harm would come to the kitten.

He hadn't told the Spanish clanmasters about Dustcloud and only mentioned Raven as the coordinator of the project. If there was a chance to convince them to join in, he didn't want to spoil it by giving them cause to doubt the personality of any of the movement's leaders.

A small ball of striped fur dropped out of an opening just a hint above his head with a startled "Mew!" and he reflexively snatched it in his mouth and lowered it gently to the floor.

The kitten that looked up at him wide-eyed reminded him of Rascal even though they had little in common besides their age. This one was a small pawed female with dark grey fur and a few white markings, while Rascal had much larger, though equally still clumsy paws and unicolour blond fur.

The kitten also wasn't subdued by the fall and encounter with a stranger for long. After the first fearful glance around she apparently decided that he wasn't a threat and jumped at him in an attempt to grab his whiskers.

He jerked his head away to avoid a possibly painful capture, then licked her head soothingly.

"Greypony?"

He turned towards the heavily accented voice to find Dewshadow in human shape watching him from a few steps to the side. Both Spanish clanmasters understood English well, but their pronunciation was giving him almost as many problems as that of the French cats had at first.

He needed to get out and met foreigners more often. Icelandic and British accents weren't a problem, but the people whose first language he didn't know took some getting used to. Well, if they did set up a new high council, that problem would probably fix itself very quickly.

Greypony changed to human shape as well earning a slightly dismayed mewl from the kitten.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting for this long, but it isn't an easy decision to make. It might well drag us into a foolish war and our clans have already suffered great losses."

He hadn't mentioned Raven's misgivings about Beavertail and Acornlight either, but then they had known about the Spanish clanmasters already. Most likely at least one of his hosts had met Beavertail before.

"I am well aware of that and you aren't the only ones with such concerns," he assured Dewshadow. "Neither Mistwalker nor I and most certainly not Raven came into this looking for battle."

"And there is no need to make a final choice at this point, I know," Dewshadow added. "Like you we are curious to see how many others there are left. We have decided that a trip to Stonehenge to meet them is worth the risk. Whether we will wish to stay in contact with any of them is a decision we will be better able to make once we have met them. Do not expect us to join in any more ambitious projects than that, though. We are in no position to take great risks."

"Wait and see?" It was a cautious decision, Greypony decided. They were keeping the doors open for the moment. No, they were nothing like Dustcloud even though Greypony had little hopes they'd stay after meeting Raven and Acornlight.

"Wait and see," Dewshadow confirmed. "We have been remiss in our duties as hosts, though. We should have offered you a lair before we left you to wait. You are of course welcome to stay with me and my family as long as you like. Or your mission permits, I suppose.

"Thank you," Greypony nodded at him. "I am indeed not able to stay long. In a few days I am expected in Italy."

That wasn't completely true. He hadn't received a return bird from clanmaster Silence, yet, nor had his message even suggested a date for the meeting. He felt uncomfortable among the Spanish cats, though and wanted to leave as soon as possible without seeming impolite. Raven's Easter holidays were beginning to look like a feasible deadline for the Stonehenge meeting, if they could contact all the clans in time.

"I find your lifestyle very interesting, though," he said trying to sound honestly regretful that he couldn't stay. "I wish I had time to really experience it."

"You were hesitant to enter a cave," Dewshadow remarked.

"It came as a surprise. All the other clans I've visited so far live in huts even though the terrain and building styles vary. I wasn't expecting something this different."

It was almost impossible to look at Dewshadow while talking to him. In his human shape his scar looked even more horrid and Gerypony wondered whether he could walk freely among humans at all. Most likely the scar would attract too much attention.

Then again humans had scars, too. Perhaps, if he had a good story of an accident to tell them, they'd accept it and move on. Or maybe these clans didn't even interact with humans anymore. Dustcloud didn't, but Greypony had come to the conclusion that Dustcloud was insane. Was not wanting any contact with humans as much a symptom of that as attacking your own kittens, or could it occur in a sane cat as well?

 

Lightning was right. Something was troubling Greypony, something besides being in a cave. Clearly there were things he wasn't telling them and it worried Dwshadow that they might be things he wanted to know. On the other hand travelling from clan to clan he had to hear a lot of personal concerns of the various clanmasters and it wouldn't do to discuss those with anybody else.

It would be the decent thing to do to address them himself or, if he couldn't solve them pass them on to the head of this undertaking. Raven?

That name had come up several times, but Greypony had never specifically said that he was in charge. Dewshadow suspected that he was, though. Greypony was too unimpressive to keep something this big together.

Raven was the current leader of the Sacred Forest clan, Greypony had said, but what else did they know about him? It would be important to get his measure at Stonehenge, though most likely a lot of cats would have the same idea.

As far as Greypony was concerned Dewshadow was even less impressed than Lightning. Sure, he seemed to be a fine and decent cat, much more level-headed than Acornlight, Stardust and even Beavertail, but still so naive.

Greypony clearly had no idea of the horrors of being caught by humans, of desperate fights for survival and slaughtered, tortured kittens. He was trying to put together something grand here and it'd be wonderful, if it worked out, but was he ready for the problems it would entail? Did he have the strength to deal with them?

Lightning thought that he might grow with the challenges. Dewshadow thought that it might well be too late by then. It would take someone a lot tougher than Greypony to keep more than one clan together in these times. The movement needed a strong experienced leader and Greypony wasn't it.


	23. Chapter 22: Muggle-Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Silence decided to walk into the story ahead of schedule. Maybe we'll actually make it under 50 chapters ...

Chapter 22: Muggle-Cats

 

To Raven's dismay the Latvian excursion met up in a busy Muggle street.

"Oh, there's nothing to worry about," Mistwalker told him when he voiced his concerns. "Nobody speaks much English here."

Raven cast a look around. The street was full of people in ordinary Muggle clothes, but that didn't mean that they all had to be ordinary Muggles. No more than the fact that most of them were probably Latvians meant that none of them spoke English.

"They trade with other countries like everybody else, don't they?" he hissed. "I'd expect them to do that in English. Besides what's your guarantee that we're the only foreigners here. There might be tourists."

Mistwalker flashed his teeth at him, but didn't dare hiss outright. Was he intimidated? Raven saw no other likely explanation for his submissive behaviour.

"We have another ... participant," Mistwalker changed the topic. "Seafoam. From Norway."

"Norway?" They already had a Norwegian clan. In fact Midnight had been one of the first to join them. "What took him so long?"

"Her," Mistwalker corrected. "Her clan's nomadic. Very hard to find in the first place and then she took the whole lot of them through half the country to Midnight's village to ask for details. She'll be a difficult one."

"The whole clan. How many is that?"

"Twelve including the kittens."

"Makes sense."

"What?" Mistwalker stared at him.

"They're not a large group and have no safe place to hide," Raven explained. "Splitting the group would probably have meant leaving the kittens with too little protection."

"Well, maybe," Mistwalker allowed. "I still think that she'll be troublesome. She asked more questions than even Lightdance."

"I've had worse problems than having to answer unnecessary questions," Raven returned easily. He was used to that from students.

"Problems?" Mistwalker asked right away. "Has something gone wrong in the south?"

Would he like that? Greypony seemed to consider the search a competition between himself and Mistwalker, but until now Raven hadn't thought that that might be mutual.

"The Germans are out and we're well rid of them," he allowed. "They're a paranoid and treacherous pack."

Mistwalker raised his eyebrows.

"They were hesitant from the start. Refused visits and owl contact. Instead they asked me to take in a clanless kitten, then told her to kill me and attempted to kill her when she refused. I'm still worried about my kitten's safety. You don't want yours anywhere near them."

"You kept her?"

"She's a fine kitten and I have room for more," Raven shrugged. "Besides she proved herself. So much for the Germans Greypony invested so much time into finding and convincing, though. He's petty disappointed. Then there's the French. They're eager to join, but I'm not sure we've got the same goals. They're warrior-led, a mother clan and rather fresh split-off. Both are aggressive and the younger clanmaster's a proud fool on top of it. He's more likely to insult other attendees at Stonehenge than to contribute anything worthwhile. The Portuguese seem an alright bunch, though and the latest news from Greypony said that both Spanish clans are showing reserved interest. He's moving on to Italy and Greece next and determined to keep the Easter deadline."

"We've been much more successful in this short time than you originally expected," Mistwalker remarked.

"Indeed we have," Raven confirmed. "But I'm not sure it's wise to rush things. We could wait until the summer."

"We can always add clans we missed in the first round later on," Mistwalker suggested.

"And some might be more willing to join an already existing and working structure than a project with a still undetermined goal." Still there was no need to rush things. He'd have liked to have time to get to know the various clans first.

 

"He'd never seen a wand before!" Rascal exclaimed incredulously sitting up on Raven's bed.

"No," Loki confirmed from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor with the book in his lap. And it continues 'Curious he accepted Godric's wand and inspected it closely. It seemed a normal piece of wood, but when he gave it an experimental shake sparks of fire burst from its tip. In his surprise Salazar dropped it with a frightened mewl and fled up the next tree.'"

Rascal laughed at that.

"I don't see what's so strange about it," Firewheel said. She was curled up on top of Raven's desk with her head resting on a pile of parchments and one leg dangling over the edge. "I almost dropped my wand the first time I managed to activate it as well and it only started to glow a little."

"You mean your ... um ... foster clanspeople didn't even show you their wands either?" Rascal asked.

"They didn't have wands," Firewheel corrected. "Why would they? They only hinder access to magic."

"So they never, really never, went out into the wizarding world?" Loki asked. "Not even for information?"

"No never. They were afraid of Muggles already. Wizards were many times worse."

Raven had forbidden taking the book out of his private quarters or even reading it with the door unlocked, so the kittens had stocked up on food and pumpkin juice and were determined to camp there for the day, perhaps even the entire weekend. In cat form they all ought to fit into the bed comfortably, though neither Loki nor Firewheel saw much need for it. The blanket would probably be stifling over their thick fur.

They'd discussed letting Blaise and Hermione in on their secret, but Raven had told only them and they'd have been restricted to acting human with them around. Besides Firewheel was still avoiding Hermione.

Hopefully the human girl would assume that that was the reason she wasn't in the library or at meals. She'd told Neville that she was going to spend the day doing girl things with Luna to protect her from further bullying and hinted to Luna that she had a study session with Raven which was almost the truth anyway.

The third year Slytherins would no doubt notice that Loki and Rascal were missing again, but hopefully they wouldn't think too much about the pairaking off on their own. It wasn't all that unusual after all.

"You know, I'm beginning to get the impression that Littlepaws was a bit of a rabbit-cat, Rascal said. "I'm surprised he even became clan-master."

"He was a small cat," Loki countered. "Probably not much of a fighter."

"Dustcloud is clan-master and he's even more of a rabbit-cat," Firewheel reminded them. "At least Littlepaws overcame his fears and even lived alone among the humans later on. He tried a lot of new things a rabbit would not."

"Yeah," Rascal conceded. "But he wasn't the great hero I always thought he was."

Loki leafed through the book thoughtfully.

"Well, continue!" Firewheel pushed him, but when he finally spoke again it wasn't to read out more from the book.

"What exactly is a hero?" he asked.

"Why, a hero," Rascal returned. "Is somebody incredibly cool to look up to."

"No, I mean what qualities do they need to have to be considered heroes?"

"Well, they must always do the right thing, be strong and brave and wise."

"They're never afraid and always win," Rascal added. "Invulnerable."

"Like Siegfried and Willhelm Tell," Firewheel said.

"Or Thor," Loki added. "But I never admired Thor as much as Loki. Or Tyr, or Odin ... and Tyr lost his hand to Fenrir, Odin gave up an eye and Fenrir killed him." He didn't mention Loki's flaws. They were legendary after all.

"And I never liked Sigfried. Arrogant jerk with no respect for living things," Firewheel admitted. "Don't know what people see in him."

"Loki's just always stumbling from one mess into the next," Loki continued. "So I suppose heroes are vulnerable and they can be foolish, too."

"What about Raven?" Firewheel asked. "He's my hero."

"My father says he's a hero, too," Loki agreed. "But he's got that dark magic taint."

"Raven is a hero," Rascal agreed. "He isn't afraid of anything and he's been chosen by the Fire Lady and is bringing the clans together."

"But he doesn't always do the right thing," Loki said. "He worked for Voldemort."

"And he scares some of his students," Firewheel agreed. "That's pretty mean. So what is a hero?"

"Someone who does great things?" Loki suggested. "Who has great visions?"

"Then Littlepaws was a hero after all," Firewheel said. "He co-founded Hogarts and revolutionised magical education."

"But he meant to do it for Catar as well as humans," Rascal countered. "He meant for them to work together. So he failed."

"We already established that heroes don't always win," Loki returned. "If the other clans don't get along and it all falls apart, does that make Raven any less a hero for trying? It's not under his control what they'll decide at the meeting."

"Or how Dustcloud reacted," Firewheel agreed.

 

The arranged meeting place with Lightdance was the overgrown garden of an old castle, now a ruin. Not very impressive. The cat himself made up for it, though. He was tall with glossy dark fur and a single large white patch that ran in an oddly irregular pattern from his nose to the tip of his tail.

His movements in Raven's opinion didn't quite match his name. He seemed unusually stiff, or perhaps just too tense to move with the grace usually associated with a dancer.

Lightdance frowned at Raven, clearly even less impressed than Raven was, but apparently deemed him worthy of a formal greeting. He obviously wasn't a dark Catar, but Raven wasn't sure whether he should be relieved just yet. It was so much easier to deal with other clan-masters' attitudes when Greypony was there to support him. Mistwalker's conduct was flawless as expected, but he left Raven to deal with Lightdance's reaction to his taint on his own. Maybe it was for the best. He shouldn't get used to Greypony making his introductions for him.

"You are the liaison with the southern clans then?" Lightdance's voice sounded harsh, but that might have been due to his accent. He didn't look outright unfriendly at least.

"Liaison?" Was that how Mistwalker saw him? "More of a communication relay station, really. I'm the one staying in place with a fixed address while Mistwalker and Greypony travel to met the clans."

"You are the only Southener in the group, though," Lightdance stated. 'And not much of one,' his look seemed to say.

"Oh no, there are others in France and Portugal," Raven assured him. "And some others we are still negotiating with at the moment."

"There also was a contact in Germany," Mistwalker added helpfully.

Raven suppressed a sigh. "There was, but Lord Dustcloud has decided to decline our offer. He lives in complete seclusion from humans and travelling would have forced him into contact with them."

"Security problems? Lightdance suggested slyly.

"At his end perhaps," Raven allowed. "His clan doesn't teach its kittens how to hide among humans. I suppose that leaves them at a bigger risk of exposure than our clans."

Lightdance tilted his head and nodded. "Indeed not too wise a choice considering the ever growing numbers of humans around. Here we tend to pose as travelling gypsies that perform false magic for the humans. It gives us established human identities while allowing us to keep a certain distance from them. Whenever they get too curious we move on. We can handle them easily."

He seemed proud of that evasion tactic.

"Perhaps you would consider lending your expertise to the less experienced clans then?" Raven suggested. "They will have to blend in on the way to the Stonehenge meeting, though I suppose most of them have at last some experience with travelling."

"I thought you were going to use wizarding means to smuggle us in?" Mistwalker asked.

"Those of you who are used to passing as wizards, yes," Raven confirmed. "It will be less suspicious to have the rest come as Muggles, though. The French should use Muggle transport if at all possible. We don't want them caught up in wizarding control formalities."

Lightdance gave him occasional odd looks after that as if he didn't quite know what to make of him. Apparently Raven wasn't quite what he'd expected.

He didn't seem to distrust them, though, nor were there any indications that he had before the meeting. After just a short talk he invited them into the ruins themselves where his clan had struck up colourful tents. At first Raven was struck by how different from other Catar villages this was, but at a closer look the arrangement of the tents and activities of the cats were no different from what he was used to. Under those colourful gypsy tents Lightdance's people turned out to be no different from Greypony's or Acornlight's.

Or perhaps they were, but not in any profound way, Raven decided later that day as the feast wound down. They were a little more talkative than the taciturn Icelanders and more laid back than the French. In fact he couldn't see why Mistwalker had found them so problematic. They were easy to talk to and surprisingly accepting.

 

Luna wished Firewheel weren't off studying. Of course she understood that her friend's Catar studies were important and if she could have special lessons with a real priest, she was sure she'd be delighted at the chance to have a study marathon as well. It was selfish of her to begrudge her that, but Luna was feeling lonely and caged.

On her own she was too easy a target for bullies, so she was staying away from people, pretending that she wasn't there. She'd stayed in bed until the others had gone to the bathroom, slipped past them and into a shower stall when they'd returned to get dressed and only left it again once she was sure everybody else had gone to breakfast.

She'd been worried that people might return to get something from the dorms after the meal, so she'd taken a book and her class-notes and sneaked into the Muggle Studies classroom to read and study.

By now it was close to lunch time, though and she was getting hungry. She'd probably have to attend the meal whether she wanted to or not.

Twirling a lock of hair around her finger Luna considered her options. If she stayed here, she could use lunch as an opportunity to use Myrtle's bathroom unseen and possibly have a chat with her ghost friend while she was there. She'd be ravenous by the time dinner was finally served, though. She really should eat now.

Maybe, if she could find a house elf, she could ask to have some food delivered in here. She didn't want to be a bother even to an elf, though and it was probably bad manners. Eating in the classrooms wasn't allowed either.

Through the window beside her she had a good view of the forest behind the castle. The sun reflected in interesting patterns off the snow. Luna imagined jumping at the flickering patches, but of course they were only light and the water monster had come from the snow as well.

The water monster that according to Firewheel might still be out there. What if it attacked her the moment she went outside on her own? Better to stay safe inside the castle.

But was she safe here? What if the water monster had found a way inside?

Luna glanced around her in fear. The classroom was big and unfamiliar. She didn't belong here. Nobody knew where she was and there probably wasn't anybody near enough to hear a scream, if she were attacked. It might be safer to stay around other people, but people also meant danger. Who should she fear more her fellow students or the water monster?

Something creaked outside in the corridor probably somebody walking over a loose floor-board, but didn't water monsters have to walk as well? Luna ducked over her book hoping that whatever it was would pass by the door and not think to look into a classroom on a Saturday. Everything remained silent, so it probably hadn't been the water monster.

She should just pack up and go to the common room. There'd be other students there including older ones who'd know how to fight a water monster, if it attacked.

But then she'd have to go out into the corridor and perhaps the water monster was waiting there and if it wasn't and she reached the common room unharmed, her dorm mates and Cho and her gang would know where to find her. No, she'd just stay here and gather her courage to go to lunch. Most likely the water monster wasn't even in the castle after all. It was just her imagination running away with her. Adults often told her that she let it do that too much. In fact other students did, too, especially Esmeralda Kirk, the nice girl in her dorm who only picked on her when the others urged her to do it, but always talked down to her as if she was a little child or a retard that needed help.

Luna didn't like being talked down to and hated attempts to adapt her into what the others thought was the way a girl should think and feel. She liked being herself, thank you very much. Why couldn't people accept that she was an individual with a mind of her own? Surely others deviated from "the norm" as well. Why were they okay and she needed changing?

Another creak interrupted her thoughts and this time she heard steps approaching as well. Someone was walking up the corridor. Probably just a student exploring the castle or a higher year on the way to a secret rendezvous in this quiet part of Hogwarts. Or maybe it was just someone who'd forgotten their book in class yesterday and only noticed now. She didn't see any books here except the one she'd brought with her, so there was no danger.

The footsteps stopped right in front of the door, she heard and saw the handle move. Luna felt the kick of fear in her stomach, but was too terrified to flee. Frozen and wide eyed she stared at the door that swung open slowly as if under an impedimenta curse.

Please let it be an unfamiliar student only interested in retrieving their book or quill or whatever! A Hufflepuff would be best.

A wooden crate floated through the door. Luna pressed her hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Water monsters didn't levitate crates about or fly around in them. She was pretty sure of that.

Why would anyone levitate a crate into a classroom on a weekend though?

A wand appeared from behind the door and then the hand holding it came into view as well proving that it was indeed a human levitating a crate and not a monster or a flying crate moving about on its own.

And then the person took another step forward and was no longer hidden behind the door and it all became so obvious.

"Professor Harker!" Luna exclaimed in relief. Of course! Who else but the Muggle Studies teacher would levitate things into the Muggle Studies classroom? The crate had to contain Muggle artefacts he was going to use in next week's classes.

The crate crashed to the floor very suddenly as the startled teacher reflexively jerked his wand over to point at Luna unintentionally breaking the simple levitation spell.

"Oh," he said and then noticing his mistake: "Oh damn!"

"I'm sorry!" Luna exclaimed. "I didn't mean to startle you. Is that," She pointed at the crate. "Very fragile?"

"Well, normally yes, but it probably didn't matter," Professor Harker assured her. "They don't work inside Hogwarts anyway. No electricity, you see. That's what they run on instead of magic. Most of them didn't work anymore when I got them. They were useless to the Muggles, you see, but still fine for the students to look at, so I was able to get teaching material for free."

"They are Muggle replacements for magic?" Luna asked. "I think I've seen some at Kings Cross. That big board that shows when the trains go."

"The departure board, yes," Professor Harker confirmed. "That runs on electricity, too. I don't have one of those, though. These are smaller more common items that Muggles have at home. There's a radio in here somewhere and ... We should probably take them out and check them anyway. There shouldn't be anything a quick reparo won't fix, but it'll be better to do it before I need them in class."

"I'm sorry," Luna repeated.

"It's okay," he assured her. "No harm done. What were you doing in here, though? You don't take my subject. I'd recognise you, if you did."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologised once again. "I'm Luna Lovegood. I was just studying in here." She blushed. "It's so nice and out of the way on weekends and I thought it wasn't needed. Too many people in the common room and library, you see."

"Ah of course, I understand." Professor Harker nodded. "It must be quite annoying when you have an important exam coming up and no space left in the library. I never could work with all the noise in the common room either. It was a clever idea to use a classroom. I never thought of that myself. Still, I have to request that you don't tell your friends and that you make sure to leave the room in the same condition it was in when you arrived. Not every student can be trusted without supervision and I'd hate to have to lock the classroom to keep it safe."

"I'm sorry!" It seemed apologising was all she could do today. "I never thought it might not be allowed. I was really only going to sit here and study. I never thought it could do any harm."

It already had, though. What if there had been something really fragile in that box that couldn't be repaired?

"It's fine, really," Professor Harker assured her. "It's just as much my own fault for being so jumpy. Just because I didn't expect anybody to be in here is no excuse for pointing my wand at a student. I mean ... How old are you even? Fourteen? Thirteen?"

"Twelve," Luna admitted.

"Ah, second year, then," he concluded. "No wonder I didn't recognise you. I know at least the faces of most of the older students, you see. Even if I don't teach them, they sometimes accompany their friends to see me or wait for them after class, or I just notice my students talking with them at dinner."

"I'll probably take Muggle Studies next year," Luna promised spontaneously. "Well, at least I'm considering it. There are so many interesting electives and I can't take hem all, but my friend Fiona says that Muggle Studies is particularly interesting."

"And useful, too," Professor Harker assured her. "Most wizards don't realise how much easier a lot of things are, if you know how to use Muggle transport and appliances. Of course we have spells to do things faster and more efficiently, but we can't use them in front of Muggles and there are always more of them. Two hundred years ago one could just walk behind a building or tree and disapparate, but nowadays there's an ever growing chance that there's a parking lot or a road there where a Muggle could see you. In London it is far easier to take the Tube than to find an abandoned alley in an unfamiliar part of town.

"A tube?"

"The Tube," Professor Harker explained. "That is the nickname of London's underground, a network of trains in tunnels all through the city. They are similar to the Hogwarts Express, just equipped to run in tunnels and for much shorter trips. There's a train every few minutes and you can get almost anywhere in the city quite comfortably, if you know how to use them as well as the Muggle busses."

"Busses?" Luna asked. "You mean like the Knight bus?"

"Almost, but they have fixed routes and stops like the trains. If you want door to door transport, you should call a taxi."

The Muggle world sounded so fascinating when Professor Harker explained it and he was surprisingly nice, too. Few teachers had ever wasted this much time on talking to Luna and whenever they had it had been to talk her out of believing in some creature or plot or to tell her that she needed to be more willing to adapt to what other people expected her to think and feel like.

Professor Harker did none of that. He told her stories of the Muggle world and showed her all the strange and fascinating objects in his box. By the time they had to go to dinner Luna was pretty sure that she wanted to take Muggle Studies. It wouldn't be as wonderful as it had been today, of course, because there would be other students that'd put her down all the time, but it would still be interesting. Luna was sure of that.

 

Greypony strolled through the streets of Rome vaguely following the Muggle tourists and occasionally stopping to look at some building or other. He'd enjoyed playing the tourist role in Germany and France, but Rome, though a big tourist attraction, couldn't quite stir his interest as much as small French towns and the German forest.

He supposed that much of it was to blame on the heat. Despite his short stays in Portugal and Spain he still wasn't used to Mediterranean temperatures even in winter. He'd lived all his life in the far north after all. His body just wasn't ready for such heat.

In addition he wasn't a big city creature. Iceland was wide and thinly populated. Reykjavik, though big by Icelandic standards, was little more than a village compared to this metropolis. Greypony felt boxed in with too many humans packed together too closely.

And then there were the sights themselves. Churches, basilicas, holy relics ... It was enough to make any cat scream. Hard to believe that this city's fame long predated Christianity when you listened in on the tours.

Greypony did his best to distract himself by playing spot the column and trying to imagine what might have stood in these places in Ceasar's times. He'd have liked a tour of the proper sights of Rome, he thought, the old temples, the forum and senate ... Where might the temple of Vesta have been with it's virgin priestesses who had the power to save a condemned man from death? Where had the Romans sacrificed to Mars praying for victory in battle?

Like a sudden slap the Catar aura brushing against his senses brought him abruptly back to the present. He'd felt his shadow's presence now and again over the last two days, but they'd been like a phantom one caught sight of out of the corner of one's eye, almost impossible to be sure they were there, if it hadn't happened again and again until it seemed ridiculous to believe his mind could be playing tricks on him. This was different. This time the touch had been deliberate. Someone was trying to get his attention.

Greypony stopped outside the next church and faked interest in what was most likely a Latin inscription. Raven would have been able to tell and maybe translate it as well, but it wasn't important. While his eyes were on the text his mind was entirely on the cat he felt approaching him from behind.

There was no telling whether it was the same cat who'd been following him or in fact whether one and the same individual had been watching him the whole time. He rather assumed that they'd been taking turns, though that raised more questions than it answered. A whole group of Catar in the holy city of Rome right under the eyes of the pope?

They'd seemed shy and stealthy so far, but now this one was walking up to him openly. Well, Greypony had nothing to hide. He was looking for them after all.

"It is a fascinating old city, isn't it?"

"Indeed," he confirmed. "Though I wish there were more to see of its older history. Much has been covered up by the passage of time."

"Perhaps so, but I do believe you are looking in the wrong places. There is much more to find for those who know where to search for it."

"Ah yes, I am not much of an expert on this country's history," Greypony allowed. "But, if you're ever in Iceland I could give you a tour of the past to impress even you."

"Iceland isn't nearly as old as Rome."

Greypony laughed. "Older in fact, if you want to compare the island to the city. I'll grant you that Viking culture is younger than Rome, but how does your Senate stand up against the Althingi?"

"The council of elders?"

"Now our parliament. We have changed little since they decided to adopt Christianity. Can you say the same?"

"Ah, but we have gone with the times."

"And we kept our roots and identity." He turned around to look at the short Italian. "Silence, I assume?"

The other cat nodded.

"You are a silent one indeed. I've been waiting for your reply to my letter for over two weeks now."

"Yet you are here," Silence challenged. "How did you know where to find us?"

"I didn't. I concluded my business in Spain and decided to have a look at the sights while I had nothing better to do. I might never get a second chance to visit Rome."

"You're not really interested in the city."

"Disappointed, yes. It has much less to offer to our kind than I expected. I really thought there would be more to see of Ancient Rome."

"You really are looking in the wrong places," Silence grumbled. "But for now let me offer you some modern Italian cooking instead. I promise you will like the taste of our food, if not the decor of our restaurante."

A restaurant owning cat? Oh well, he had a friend who taught Potions after all. Why shouldn't another cat try his hand at a Muggle business?

Though the common room of the restaurant could have been quite comfortable otherwise Greypony did indeed take an immediate dislike to the decorations which consisted mostly of pictures of saints and crosses. With a sigh he sat down beneath a picture of a man on horseback killing a much too small dragon with a Muggle lance and shot a glare at an elegantly hung rosary.

Silence smiled apologetically and disappeared into the kitchen to order what Greypony decided later had to be the entire menu. It certainly was the most unusual welcoming feast he'd ever had.

Over the meal they talked and to his ever mounting surprise Greypony found out that Italy's Catar didn't just keep an outpost in the city, the entire clan lived here. Besides the restaurant they also ran a small hotel and an ice cream shop.

Greypony felt completely out of his depth. At least in Spain it had just been the caves and scars making him uneasy. This clan had a completely different culture! He wasn't even entirely sure what their religious beliefs were! All these Christian items were ... suspicious.

He'd wished for Raven's presence in Spain and also briefly when he'd first encountered Acornlight, but never before as intensely as now. These Catar were more Muggles than cats. Raven understood Muggles, though Grypony wasn't entirely sure when or how he'd learned about them. Raven was an agent to many people, at home in many different worlds. He'd probably take these Muggle-cats in stride.

"Are you from Rekjavik then?" a young Catar who'd been introduced as Lantern asked.

These cats had strange names as well as strange habits.

Greypony laughed. "No, from a village in the Icelandic inland desert."

They stared at him.

"But how do you survive there?" Lantern gasped.

"Why we're hunter-gatherers as our people have always been," Greypony returned hoping that it didn't come over as disrespectful of their lifestyle.

They stared at him some more.

"In the desert?" Silence asked. "I can understand how you'd survive that way by the shore. Stardust's people do."

"The desert isn't as empty as you think, if you know where to look," Greypony returned wondering whether Silence had meant to tell him something similar earlier and whether it was as unhelpful to these cats as Silence's words had been to him. "We are from two completely different worlds." In a way it was an admission of defeat. He had no idea how to convince these cats of anything. He didn't understand their mindset.

"Lets set Iceland aside for the moment," Stovetiger, the cook and possibly Silence's wife suggested. "If you are so curious, Lantern, you might do best to visit them someday and experience it firsthand."

"Just remember that they probably don't have satellite TV there," Snarl added gruffly. "Or warm water."

Lantern looked horrified, but Grepony wasn't too worried about it. Rascal too had grown up among such cultural amenities and had adapted to village life just fine.

"For now, though," Stovetiger continued ignoring Snarl's comment. "You came here to invite us to a meting, I understand?"

He nodded. "A gathering of clanmasters at Stonehenge primarily to take stock and re-establish communication lines. Some clans have been completely isolated, you see and the exchange of kittens between clans seems to have ceased entirely."

"You're looking for kittens then?" Stovetiger asked eagerly.

"Not at the moment, no, but I believe Raven could use some young hunters up in Scotland, though."

"Lantern is without a mate here, but he is no hunter," Silence explained shaking his head regretfully.

Greypony regarded the young cat again. Lantern was about Blueeye's age, but he wasn't comfortable with the thought of adopting one of Silence's people into his clan. Most likely the two wouldn't even get along, but he decided against mentioning her. If Lantern did come to visit their clan and Blueeye found herself attracted to him, so be it, but it was no loss to Blueeye, if they never met and no disappointment for Stovetiger, if he didn't give her any hopes.

"There might be others interested, though," he offered instead. "Or possibly ones with kittens looking to move out. You'll get the chance to talk to very different clanmasters at the meeting."

He'd need to place three or four kittens over the next few years as well, but some were probably already considering Scotland and it seemed the much better choice. They'd get much less of a culture shock moving from stone desert into the forest than into a city, Scotland was much closer to Iceland than Italy, the climate more familiar. Besides, he liked the idea of strengthening his clan's ties with Raven's. The prospect of baking pizza for a living on the other hand didn't look like something that would excite any of his kittens.


	24. Chapter 23: Scryers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Why do I find it so hard to find scenes for Saint Aignon? Ah well, here he's with Ron who is no more pleasant, but still for some reason easier to include.

Chapter 23: Scryers

 

Albus Dumbledore was deep in thought as he watched his scrying mirror. As usual there were some extracurricular activities, or so he liked to refer to them going on in the castle. There were Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater in the third floor broom cupboard. Their privacy charm was rather weak, probably too hastily cast and lacking the required concentration. Albus could have looked past it easily, but then he was well aware what students got up to in broom cupboards in the middle of the night and it would be more than tasteless to watch, even if there was no way anybody would ever know.

There was Luna Lovegood hiding in the Muggle Studies section of the library while Ron Weasley was making his way to ards the restricted section. If she didn't manage to slip out before he reached his goal it was pretty likely that they'd both be caught. Albus hoped that the little Ravenclaw would make it. He was a little confused by the fact that she hadn't just checked out whatever book she'd come for during the normal opening hours, but she obviously wasn't there for a restricted book. She'd had enough time to enter that section before Weasley's arrival. No, whatever she'd wanted had been in the Muggle Studies or Arithmancy section and she'd already taken it. Such interests should be encouraged, not punished.

She was a bit of a weird girl, he thought fondly. Albus liked unusual students. They made life more interesting.

Down in the kitchens Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom had no idea that they'd just barely missed Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot, but the house elves were unlikely to give away either pair. Unfortunately the boys were just as unaware of Hermione Granger sitting right behind the entrance to their common room. That would be a nasty surprise for them unless they happened to sneak in alongside one of the other late night wanderers. They were sure to be wearing Potter's invisibility cloak after all.

In Myrtle's bathroom two sixth years were having a lovers' spat. Albus wondered whether Miller had finally told Hacker about the baby she was expecting. It worried him a little that she still hadn't seen Poppy, but Severus didn't seem worried. Then again Severus was hard to read. Albus wished he dared ask the Potions Master just how well versed in these things he was, but that'd be letting on how much he knew or suspected of Slytherin's inside secrets and he wasn't sure how Severus would react. They were a private lot and especially Severus could get very volatile when he felt threatened.

Severus' rooms and office were the only part of the castle Albus wasn't sure his scrying mirror could access, if he wanted it to. All the teachers had good privacy charms of course, but he was confident that he could force his way through most of them even at a distance, if he were willing to trigger their alarms. With Severus' wards he wasn't even sure what some of them were. There was a clever variant of a standard anti listening charm on the surface that was likely to stop any students. Woven into it neatly was a minor dark spell that protected against planted listening devices. That one was centered on the office where the students had more frequent access.

Some wandless spells and possibly a talisman or three blocked scrying devices from entering the office, private rooms and Slytherin girls' dorms as well as all dungeon level bathrooms. Albus doubted the students even knew. Then there were the curses against breaking in ...

Beneath all those spells, almost invisible while it remained inactive lay one more bit of magic that the mirror was completely unable to identify. Knowing his Potions Master as well as he did Albus suspected that to be the real privacy spell protecting his rooms. When prodded gently it emitted a soft thrum of magic that indicated just a little power, but Albus suspected that it'd react proportionally to the magic you directed at it. He didn't dare test the theory for fear of upsetting Severus, for the sudden flare of magic would hardly go unnoticed.

More mysterious than the strength of the spell was its type. Albus was unable to identify what kind of magic Severus had used in its creation or how it had been cast. He was almost convinced that it wasn't wand-magic, but it didn't feel like any sort of wandless spell Albus knew. Even more fascinatingly it seemed to flow seamlessly into the castle's original protection spells that had been cast by the founders.

Albus suspected that Severus had achieved that effect by tapping cautiously into one of the founders' spells and weaving something similar. His gut feeling said Slytherin's, but his head told him that it was impossible. Those were of Catar origin, wild nature magic of the highest level.

No, more likely that Severus had come across the basic makeup of Ravenclaw's spells in his research. He most certainly had the intelligence to decipher those. Or maybe he'd coincidentally created a spell sympathetic to Hufflepuff's or Gryffindor's and the tying was merely a side effect. In any case Albus didn't want to mess with it. The castle's magic itself might react, if he actually managed to break it.

Thus he was restricted to only skimming over Severus' quarters and take whatever information the wards surrendered voluntarily. They were in slightly enhanced mode at the moment, probably because their master was absent, defending the secrets Severus was hiding inside. At this level there was no telling what was actually happening in there, but it was easy enough to glean a list of people inside and that list itself was very interesting today. Draco Rascal Malfoy, it said, Loki and Feuerrad. It was odd how Grey and Wheeler seemed to identify by only one name and he wished he knew what the German nickname meant. The German dictionary from the library had proven to be no help at all, though.

Another oddity was the combination of one Gryffindor and two Slytherins. Just what were they doing in Severus' quarters in the middle of the night when Severus wasn't even there? Malfoy was one of Severus' favourite students, Wheeler his cousin and Grey his best friend, but Albus still wondered how they'd even been able to get in. Were the door's wards that low?

Did Malfoy have a special password that allowed him access so he could ... could what? Severus didn't have a pet that required feeding in his absence. Could it be that he'd left an actual potion under the supervision of third years? He had much more advanced students that he could have chosen, the Weasley twins, for example. Their love of pranks spoke against them of course, but at least they were experienced enough to cope if anything went wrong.

Then again, if they didn't sabotage the office, they'd probably take the chance to help themselves to some less available ingredients from Severus' stores. Not that Albus thought that such an act was beyond the third years either.

A quick search and the mirror revealed the twins brewing something in the attic while Moaning Myrtle was watching them through the wall of the astronomy tower. What was the bathroom ghost doing up there?

The glance at the tower caused a pair of kissing fifth years to appear a floor above the ghost and, oh, poor children, Peeves was sneaking up on them. Albus considered doing something to distract the poltergeist, but then these two did seem a bit too young to deal with the problem Miller and Hacker were facing. Maybe it was all for the best.

A sudden wail rang through his office. Albus quickly re-focused his mirror on the library where Ronald Weasley was running blindly for the door as Argus Filch entered. Poor boy, but it didn't come as a surprise.

One last quick tilt of the mirror before he left to join them in the library sowed the Lovegood girl tip-toeing down the corridor that led to the Ravenclaw common room. At least her excursion was going to have a happy end.

 

Ron Weasley trudged back to the common room muttering angrily to himself. This really wasn't his night. To be honest it hadn't been his day, week or month either. The whole world seemed to be conspiring against him. And just when he should have been due for some better luck again.

He'd finally decided that whatever revenge the Slytherins had cooked up for him had either misfired or been forgotten over a more important nefarious plot and the rest of the school seemed to have forgotten or forgiven the garlic incident. Then the stupid German girl had messed up and had her asthma attack in the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night. Unfortunately she hadn't died or been expelled, but she and Hermione had argued over the points she'd lost and Ron had been sure the know-it-all would come crawling back to him for company.

Instead however Hermione was mad at him, claiming that Fiona was avoiding the common room and Gryffindor table now. For some obscure reason that was supposed to be his fault, just because he hadn't been fond of the stupid foreign bitch from the start.

Then McGonagall had launched a surprise test at them that everybody except Malfoy and himself seemed to have been prepared for and even Malfoy claimed that he'd known about it in advance and just had too much on his mind to study for it. Yeah right, as if a creep like Malfoy led such a busy life.

Unless of course he'd been working on that nefarious plot for Voldemort. Ron really needed to find out what that was all about.

Anyway, Ron had failed the test even worse than Malfoy and McGonagall had owled his mother. It was little consolation to know that she'd probably owled the Malfoys as well, when the next morning he'd received a howler at breakfast and Malfoy a box of chocolate frogs and a letter.

Then he'd run afoul of Sir Saint-Aignon when he'd tried to convert the holy water basin in the chapel into a scrying pool so he could find out what Malfoy and his cronies were up to in the Slytherin dorms. He really, really hoped that God understood that under the circumstances his actions weren't blasphemy after all. The Slytherins were most likely at least part demons and needed holy supervision.

The Templar however hadn't wanted to believe one word of it, as unfortunately the entire Slytherin house had a better Mass attention record than his own sister and had given him detention every day for the next week.

And now this! Because the holy scrying plan had failed and the Slytherin plot was still afoot, Ron had snuck into the restricted section of the library hoping to find a dark spell that might do the trick, but no, his accursed bad luck had to strike again and set off the alarm and in his hurry to get away he'd collided with Filch at an all out run and accidentally rammed his fist into the caretaker's stomach. If Dumbledore hadn't happened to come by, Ron wasn't so sure Filch wouldn't have made good on his threat of thumbscrews.

He'd still received another week of detention and knowing his luck probably with Snape at that. Then again anybody other than Filch might be a good idea right now.

"How am I ever going to catch the Slytherins, if I have to be in detention all the time?" he asked the portrait of the fat lady.

The fat lady yawned, shrugged and mumbled "password?" sleepily.

"Even Saint-Aignon insists that they can't be demons," he complained. "Just because they attend Mass every week and demons would not, he says."

The fat lady yawned again. "Yes, that's how it is. If they can enter a church they aren't demons. Now do you know the password or are you just going to rant about the old Catar's house?"

"Catar?" Ron gasped. "What did you hear about Catar?"

"The password," the fat lady demanded. "Or I'll put up a silencing charm and go back to sleep."

"Okay, fine, but I want to know who's a Catar, too," Ron demanded. "The password is ... some kind of bird ... blackbird?"

"No," the fat lady returned and rolled her eyes. "And I was referring to Salazar Slytherin. I thought everybody knew he was a Catar."

"Oh," Ron made deeply disappointed. For just a moment he'd thought he'd discovered the agent behind the plot, but it wouldn't be Slytherin. The evil Catar Lord was long dead and even longer gone from the school after all. "Sparrow? Dove, raven, pigeon, owl, woodpecker, nightingale, swallow, hawk ..."

The portrait swung open. "It's actually Merlin," the fat lady explained. "But I recognise you and I'm too tired to listen to a list of every species of bird known to mankind."

Ron stepped through the portrait hole hastily before she could change her mind about letting him pass without the password.

"Good guess on Raven, though," he heard her mumble sleepily as she closed. "Could have meant him, too, but he's not old ..."

He might have wondered what she meant, but the moment he'd stepped inside he was assaulted by a furious witch that demanded all of his attention.

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shrieked in exactly the same tone, even if she couldn't hope to match the volume, as his mother's howler. "I thought I heard somebody sneak out. What do you think you're doing? You could have cost us so many points, if you'd been caught!"

In fact he had lost twenty points in addition to his detention, but that was none of Hermione's business, nor were his comings and goings.

"Oh, shut up you stupid bitch!" he yelled right back at her. "You can't tell me what to do and you can't take points either. You're not a prefect."

There. He'd finally stood up to her. No more letting her boss him around. He was a big and mature teenager, not a little boy.

He stuck out his tongue at Hermione and stomped up to his dorm where Dean and Seamus welcomed him with very sleepy glares and some complaint about waking the whole house with his stomping in the middle of the night.

It wasn't until much later after he'd changed and was lying in bed trying to get to sleep that his mind finally connected the dots of his conversation with the fat lady. So maybe the Slytherins weren't all demons, since they always attended Mass faithfully and demons couldn't and maybe the Catar who'd founded their house was no longer around to threaten all good wizardkind, but if the house was founded by a Catar was it that unlikely that there were still some there now? Catar didn't melt from touching holy water, if he remembered correctly, so maybe they could attend Mass without suffering serious harm as well.

"Of course," he shouted in triumph. "They're all Catar!"

"Shut up, Ron," Harry's voice came out of the dark. "People are trying to sleep here."

 

"So how's Latvia?" Rascal asked eagerly the moment Raven sat down in his office.

"Pretty, but poor," he summed up, too tired for a lengthy description. "Nice people who know a lot about Muggles. All of you could learn some valuable lessons there." Not that he was seriously considering sending either of his kittens to Lightdance. Rascal desperately needed to learn more nature skills and Firewheel's goal to become a hunter would be better served in a more traditional environment as well. Maybe he could talk Greypony or Mistwalker into offering a summer internship to her. If not there were still several other clans that sounded more promising than the Latvians. Maybe Rascal would like a trip to Portugal after he'd already seen the north?

But there was time to consider that later after the Stonehenge meeting. "I see you have finished the book. Any other news?"

"My father wrote from Italy," Loki reported. "He's in Rome looking for ruins for some reason. There's a letter for you as well. Maybe it'll make more sense. I put it in the safe with the books."

And other Catar items, but the kitten was wise enough not to mention those without need. Raven nodded.

"Mother is pregnant," Rascal said. "She sent an extra large sweets package to assure me that it's happy news."

"And is it?" Just how far had he separated himself from his human past?

"Not sure," Rascal admitted with a shrug. "It'll be odd to have a sibling that's so much younger and doesn't have claws."

"You'll like him when you see him," Loki promised. "Waiting for Birra was odd, too, but actually holding them once they're there is wonderful. They're so tiny and cute."

"Talking about babies," Firewheel said. "I asked Luna about the water elemental. She says she doesn't know what exactly she did, but she had a burst of unintentional magic and it caused the elemental to disappear in a flash of light. Hagrid must have thought she conjured light to signal for help."

Disappeared in a flash of light? That could mean a lot of things and the second hand account was highly inaccurate. Even talking to a baby still untrained in elemental magic wasn't likely to yield clear results.

"I need to talk with her," he decided. "View her memory, if at all possible."

She'd probably object to any attempts at legilimency as an invasion of her privacy. Should he attempt to enter by force, if he couldn't convince her? It was important that he knew what had become of Firewheel's attacker, but reading another's mind without permission was an amoral act and would be taken even worse, if committed against a baby.

The Lovegoods were light Catar, even if they were clanless, and his taint would speak against him in their eyes as well as those of any Catar friends they might have. Raven still didn't know how well connected to each other the wizard-Catar who sent their kittens to Hogwarts were. Together they were probably powerful enough to have him removed from the school.

"Can you ask her whether she'd accept me reading the memory in her mind? If not, I'll try to provide a pensieve, but I'm not sure I'll be able to."

He'd occasionally used the headmaster's before, but he'd have to give Albus a god reason for borrowing it and cleaning out Luna's memory afterwards without a trace would be difficult as well as suspicious. The headmaster did tolerate a lot and Severus usually left his memories inside, trusting that Albus might view, but not comment on what didn't concern him.

He was looking for Catar now, though, and the memory would show Catar magic. Raven wasn't sure how certainly Albus would be able to recognise that, but anything to do with corporal elementals should draw his attention.

 

Ginny Weasley sighed, ducked to hide her deep red face and opened her howler. Mrs Weasley's scolding voice filled the great hall as it often did. It was lucky that the twins and Ron got so many howlers, she thought. Most people that didn't know the Weasleys personally had lost interest in them. Being scolded for negligence of ones religious duties was a lot more embarrassing than for a prank or even utter stupidity, though, or at least it was in Ginny's opinion, and her brothers were staring at her as if she'd grown a second head.

There was complete silence at the Gryffindor table after her mother's tirade had ended. Ginny reached for the milk jug with a shaking hand determined to gracefully continue her meal as if nothing at all had happened. The twins were so good at this, but then they were never really alone in a situation like this. They always had each other.

Fred was the first one to regain the power of speech.

"But why, Ginny?" he asked. "Why don't you just go and sit through it like all the Muggle borns and the Slytherins do? They don't believe most of it either."

"Yeah," George agreed. "A bad sermon is just like History of Magic. You've only got to sit through it. And on a good day," he continued with a quick glance at where Saint Aignon was sitting. "It's actually interesting. You don't want to commit a sin just because Saint Aignon isn't much of an orator, do you?"

"History of Magic doesn't give me headaches," Ginny snapped. "I can deal with a boring sermon. It's my head that kills me every time. Fiona's excused from Mass, because she's allergic to incense. Why not me? It's not fair."

"The situation is just a little bit different," Percy cut in. "You only get a little headache, Fiona could die of her asthma. You can't compare the two."

"You," Ginny hissed at her older brother. "Have no idea what you're talking about. If you'd ever had a real headache in your life, you'd know what torture it is."

"Look, Ginny," Fred tried to negotiate. "We know it's not pleasant, but if you can go at home, you can go here."

"Or you could try convincing Madam Pomfrey," Hermione Granger suggested. "That's where Fiona got the note that excuses her from Mass attendance in the chapel. You should be aware that she has special Religion classes with Professor Harker instead, though."

Ginny nodded. "I wouldn't mind those."

From what she'd overheard those lessons consisted mostly of talking about Muggles and saying the occasional prayer. Professor Harker was a lot more pleasant than Sir Saint Aignon in any case.

 

"He wants to see me?" Luna gasped. Suddenly she felt scared. They were talking about a real live high priest after all.

Firewheel nodded.

"And he's a clanmaster?" She wasn't entirely clear about that point. She thought Firewheel had said so sometime, but what would a clanmaster be doing at Hogwarts? They had a responsibility towards their clan.

Of course she might have misunderstood. Firewheel had never actually said that Raven lived in the castle. Maybe he only came by regularly to teach the kittens who did.

Then again, how could he get into the castle? A child small enough to be a first year might sneak in, if they dressed in Hogwarts robes but even they would have to be careful to avoid the younger members of the house they were pretending to be in. An unfamiliar older student would surely draw attention, an unfamiliar adult be the source of rumours and speculations for weeks.

Yet Firewheel nodded once again.

"Does he know I haven't even transformed, yet?"

"Of course he does," Firewheel assured her. "But that's not important now. He needs to see your memory of the elemental. He says it's important to find out what happened to it."

Luna shuddered. "It's a terrible memory," she admitted. "I don't want to tell it again. It even scares me just to think about it."

"He doesn't want you to tell it," Firewheel explained. "He wants to see it. I'm supposed to ask you to agree to him performing some spell or something on you, but I'm not sure what it is and I forgot the word. Lexienci, or something ... Legitenci? Legittitense?"

"Legilimency?" No, surely that couldn't be it.

"Yes," Firewheel exclaimed happily. "That's the word. If you don't agree he might not be able to arrange for a pensieve, but he said he'd try."

"He's a Legimens as well as a clanmaster," Luna stated wide-eyed with wonder. "But that's high mind-art. It takes incredible focus and self control." Neither had ever been a particular strength of the Lovegoods.

"So does partial transformation," Firewheel agreed. "And he thinks that's an ordinary skill all of us should learn." She paused. "Raven's all self-control, I guess. I think that's what he does best."

Partial transformation? She'd head of that, yes. It was something really talented Catar in legends could do. In her mind Raven looked more and more like a mystical Catar hero of old. Maybe he spontaneously materialised in hidden classrooms in response to summoning charms. Perhaps he wasn't even really alive. He might be the ghost of Salazar Slytherin or somebody. That'd definitely solve the problem of sneaking in and his clan mightn't even exist anymore. Well, at least it'd have a different clanmaster who was an actual living and breathing cat.

And this half-god wanted to poke around inside her head? He'd be able to see all her thoughts and memories, all her mistakes and kittenish inadequacies. She just knew that at the very moment he'd need her to concentrate on the memory he wanted to see her nervous mind was going to flicker to all the most embarrassing moments in her life that she definitely didn't want him to know about.

"I'm not sure how it works, but it sounds like it'll let him view the memory right inside your head, so maybe you won't even have to think about it," Firewheel coaxed.

Unfortunately Luna knew better.

"Legilimency lets you see what somebody else is thinking of," she explained. "So I'd have to concentrate really hard on that memory and not think of anything else. Have you ever tried to deliberately not think of something?"

Firewheel nodded. "You just can't get it out of your mind. The more you try, the more you think about it, but if you try really hard to think of one thing, that works just fine. Don't think of not thinking, think of the elemental."

"And he'll probably see all my thoughts and feelings at the time, too," Luna continued. "My fear and helplessness. At least in the pensieve he'd only get to watch the actual events from outside, not experience them exactly as I did."

It had always amazed her that a pensieve memory was such a distant and neutral recording even when taken from highly emotional memories. At least to Luna memories were highly emotional things. The feelings she'd experienced at the time mixed in with her feelings in hindsight. Surely if somebody were to enter her mind while she thought about the water monster, they'd experience a lot of fear and confusion, helplessness and that overwhelming feeling of shame at having lost control of her magic.

They'd most likely also get to see the memories she associated with the event, Firewheel in the hospital wing, her father explaining to her how a cat always stood by her clan and how she'd given Firewheel a bottle cork necklace that secretly, just in her mind, meant that they were clan-sisters. They'd also see the time she'd been so irrationally scared of the water monster attacking her in the castle and the way she let ordinary wizard children scare her.

"I'd rather," she said shakily. "Have the pensieve. If he can't find one, I suppose, then I'll probably have to let him." She gulped. "Legilimency is so ... intimate."

Firewheel nodded. "I think he'll understand. He didn't seem to like the thought either."

 

Hermione let herself drop into the chair next to Neville and looked miserable. For about a minute Harry waited for either of the two to say something. When neither reacted, though, he decided to take the initiative.

"Is everything okay, Hermione?" he asked. "You look troubled."

She gave him a weak smile. "I just miss having Fiona here to study with us, I guess." A shrug.

"She's worried about Luna," Neville volunteered. "The Ravenclaws are bullying her and she doesn't have any other friends."

Hermione looked even more unhappy at that. "Fiona and Luna get on so well," she said. "And I'm happy for them really, but I also feel left out."

"Then why do you always leave when Luna joins us?" Harry asked. "I think she wants to make other friends."

"I know." Hermione sighed. "They're not excluding me. I'm just not comfortable around Luna. I've got to hold myself back from explaining reality to her every time she mentions one of her imaginary creatures. I guess Fiona is just a lot more tolerant than I am."

"You can't like everybody," Neville attempted to comfort her. "But I know Fiona hasn't forgotten us and we each have other friends we hang out with as well."

Hermione snorted. "You mean Ron? That idiot is ... is ... much worse than Luna."

Harry's bafflement at that statement must have been visible on his face, because Hermione explained.

"Luna has crazy ideas, but most of the time that's it. She's generally friendly and helpful. I've never seen her try to use people. Ron's lazy, aggressive and only hangs out with me to copy my homework. There's a huge difference between talking about imaginary plots and trying to poison your teacher."

"He's after Snape again?" Harry asked. That seemed to be the only explanation for Hermione citing that particular incident.

"Oh no, Saint Aignon actually managed to talk him out of the Snape-is-a-vampire thing and the the-Slytherins-are-demons theory. He's looking for a way to prove that they're Catar now."

"Catar?" It made absolutely no sense to Harry who wasn't even familiar with the word, but then when had Ron's theories ever shown any thread of logic?

"Salazar Slytherin was one," Hermione explained helpfully. "But that's it. He probably took any Catar students with him when he left."

"Catar live in huts hidden in the moors and other hard to find places," Neville said. "They don't like getting close to humans and we even know the family trees of many Slytherins. Catar don't live in big manor houses like the Malfoys or Parkinsons."

"Try explaining that to Ron," Hermione exclaimed. "He's determined to expose them and you know what the consequences of that are likely to be."

The Gryffindor hourglass still hadn't recovered completely from the points Ron had lost them for accidentally transfiguring Draco Malfoy in an attempt to kill Professor Snape. It didn't help that he'd lost another twenty points for the attempt to steal holy water last week. Harry wasn't entirely sure what Ron had meant to do with the water, but according to the rumours he'd heard it had something to do with the Slytherins being demons.

"How do you expose a Catar?" he asked his friends. "Does it have anything to do with holy water, garlic or crucifixes?"

"No, they don't mind any of those," Neville answered. "Well, they're not fond of Christianity, but they don't have any physical reactions to it or its symbols."

"You can recognise them by their claws, but it takes a thorough medical exam to find them when they're sheathed," Hermione lectured. "In human shape they are the only difference between a Catar and homo sapiens."

"So he'll have to get Madam Pomfrey to check for him?" Harry laughed. "Fat chance."

"I don't think she'd tell Ron the results even if she did check," Hermione agreed. "But there's also a tradition of torturing suspected Catar into confession and burning them alive when caught."

"That sounds almost like the Muggle witch hunts," Harry commented.

"Yes," Neville confirmed. "It's exactly like that. That's why Catar avoid humans. The Templars would be only too happy to torture them to death merely for existing."

"But that was centuries ago," Harry said trying to convince his stomach there was no reason to knot up like this. "Wasn't it?"

"It's been going on for centuries," Neville corrected. But they still do it, if they manage to find a Catar. It's not clear whether there are even any left in Britain, though."

"And now Ron's looking for them in Hogwarts right under the eyes of the Temple?" Harry grinned. "That ought to be safe enough."

"Unless he gets it into his head to torture people," Hermione reminded him. "Or invents some exposing spell or potion. You never know what Ron might do."

That was true of course. Trying to expose Snape as a vampire should have been completely harmless as well, but if Ron had brewed a poison instead of a transfiguring potion, it could easily have turned into a life threatening situation despite there not being any vampires to expose. The same must have occurred to Neville as well. His friend looked very pale and worried.

"Do you know what exactly he's planning?" Neville asked Hermione. "Maybe we should keep an eye on him so we can warn people in time."

Harry sighed. "I hate being a tattle-tale."

"How can you even think that! This is for the safety of our classmates," Hermione snapped at him. "Ron's plans can get very dangerous."

"Still," Harry hedged. "Lets only tell McGonagall, if there is no other way to stop him."

"Maybe we won't even have to," Hermione said slightly mollified. "He's in detention with the Templar right now. Knowing Ron he won't be able to resist talking about his theory. Maybe Saint Aignon can set him straight. He seems to have more influence with him than the other teachers."

Harry wasn't entirely sure why Hermione frowned disapprovingly as she said that last sentence. She was usually all in favour of obeying teachers without question, but for some reason she disapproved of Saint Aignon.

"Oh, I hope he doesn't set off the Templar," Neville whispered. "They can be quite irrational about Catar and the old faith."

"And they aren't the most rational bunch to begin with," Hermione agreed. "Still, they are better at it than Ron."

"Not rational?" Harry asked. "What makes you say that?"

Hermione regarded her almost haughtily. "Oh come on, virgin birth? Earth and everything created in seven days? It's amazing that they no longer demand that we believe the Earth is flat.

"Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let them torture random students, would he?" Neville had gone all green in the face.

"Of course not," Hermione said. "And Saint Aignon probably wouldn't either. Not if the only basis is Ron Weasley's imagination."

 

"I know it was a stupid idea, but I was so sure they had to be demon-spawn," Ron explained opening another dusty old box. "Why else would they support the dark lord?"

"The devil tempts us all," Saint Aignon returned wisely. Somehow he managed to look dignified even while sitting on a dusty box in the attic. "And not all Slytherins support Voldemort. There are very virtuous people in that house. Many Slytherins may be particularly vulnerable to temptation, but that doesn't make them demons."

"I've figured it out now anyway," Ron said and started sorting the various old prayer books into neat stacks. "You were right about them not being demons, if they can attend Mass in the chapel of course, but Werecats and Werewolves can attend Mass, can't they?"

"That's true," Saint Aignon confirmed. "But I assure you that the headmaster keeps all staff members well informed of any weres that he might let into the school. There are most certainly none among the student body."

"But what if Dumbledore doesn't know!" Ron exclaimed. "Werecats are tricky. They don't have to transform at certain times like werewolves. They're pretending to be normal wizards until He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named gives them the signal to strike."

"Mr. Weasley, the students are all either registered at the ministry at birth, or the ministry checks their families before they are admitted. No werecats could put their cub into this prestigious school."

"Did you know that Salazar Slytherin was a werecat?" Ron challenged. "You-Know-Who is his descendent. He passed the check!"

"He was an orphan," Saint Aignon allowed. "And not a werecat himself by all accounts. His family was unknown."

"So what about other orphans? Or adopted children? Or maybe the Slytherin families pass werecats off as their own children. Maybe they've been doing it for generations and once fine wizarding families are now secretly werecat clans. Slytherin started the house. He made sure to fill it with his own monstrous kind."

Saint Aignon hesitated and for just one moment looked doubtful, but then shook his head.

"No Mr. Weasley," he declared clearly and finally. "A plot like that couldn't possibly have remained hidden this long. Sooner or later a werecat would have been caught and given the others away."

"But Sir!"

"Your eagerness to defend the true faith is most laudable, Mr. Weasley, but I fear your youth and inexperience is misleading you. It is best to leave such things to those who have been trained for it. If you continue to feel this calling, you might want to consider joining our holy order when you leave school. There you will learn all the things you need to know to recognise and destroy the agents of Satan."

Ron sighed. He had considered becoming a Templar before, but it would be years before he could start the training and the wizarding world was in danger now. He'd hoped so much that Saint Aignon would help him with this, but once again he was left on his own.

Once Ron had lowered his eyes back to the books the Templar bent forward to pick one off the top of the closest stack. He leafed through it for a while then held it out to Ron open somewhere in the middle.

"What does it say on this page, Mr. Weasley?"

"Sir?" Why would the Professor need help with that?

"Read it to me."

Ron took the book. The writing inside was strange, highly decorative and a little faded with age. Perhaps Saint Aignon's eyes were similarly suffering and unable to decipher it in the bad light conditions of the attic?

"Oh faint fa ... fader ..." It was hard for Ron as well. Maybe he too had gotten something wrong? "Faint fader?"

Saint Aignon shook his head sadly.

"I suppose this stack is ready for the museum," he told Ron. "If you can't recognise the old fashioned letters anymore, the other students probably won't either."

"So we leave it up here?"

"No, they shouldn't be left to rot. We will take them down to the library and restore them as much as possible just like the rest. If Madam Pomfrey has no use for them, I'm sure the headmaster won't mind me donating them either to the temple or the ministry library."

Ron sighed again. There were so many old books up here that just levitating them all to the library might fill days of detentions.


	25. Chapter 24: Meetings

Chapter 24: Meetings

 

Learning new charms had never been one of Ron's strengths and this one looked especially advanced. Still he just had to get it right. The future of the wizarding world depended on it.

He lifted his wand, swung it in a perfect figure eight and whispered "Mutortia".

There was a tingle in his hand, but nothing happened. He'd got the word wrong, but what was it again? "Murortia?"

The table turned into a solid wall right in the middle of the charms section of Hogwarts' library. Madam Pince was beside him instantly.

"Mr. Weasley," she demanded. "What in the world do you think you're doing?"

Ron stared at her and the wall open-mouthed.

"Well?" the librarian prodded.

"Huh?"

"What were you trying to do?" Madam Pince tapped her foot impatiently. A whispering and pointing crowd of students was forming behind her.

"Er ..." He held up the spellbook he'd been using. "Practising summoning charms."

"You were summoning walls inside my library!"

"No, no, I have no idea why the table turned into a wall, I swear! I was just trying to summon a tiny little m..." But that wasn't third year material. She'd never believe that he was studying ahead for next year. "Marble," he lied.

"Marbosortia?" The librarian's voice sounded very doubtful.

Ron nodded eagerly. "I may have mispronounced it a bit."

"Indeed," Madam Pince said and then cast "Finite Incantatem!"

Nothing at all happened.

"You say the table turned into a wall?" she asked Ron again. "You're sure the wall didn't appear on top of it?"

"Yes, Madam Pince," Ron confirmed.

"This will require a specific counter spell, I fear." She turned around and pointed at one of the whispering students and then another. "You, alert Professor Flitwick and you Professor McGonagall. I have no idea how you managed to turn a basic summoning charm into a transfiguration, but then you do have a way with creative magic."

Ron cringed. Why did these things always happen to him? Madam Pince actually looked a little more friendly at the sight of this reaction.

"Hopefully the experts will figure out how to reverse this," she said. "If not we'll have to banish the wall and your parents will owe the school a new table."

Oh no! Mum would be furious. Money seemed to be getting ever tighter at home anyway. Dad said it was because of the war that was accelerating something called inflation. Ron didn't quite understand what that was or how one had to do with the other, but the result was that there was no money to buy pets, new wands or even school robes that actually fit him. He wondered just how expensive tables were.

 

Severus arrived at the emergency staff meeting fearing the very worst. Voldemort had been too quiet lately and he doubted that he was really concentrating everything he had on taking apart Azkaban. Something big was coming even if none of his sources had heard or seen anything.

The only thing he was confident could be completely ruled out at the moment was an attack on the school itself. He'd have noticed that, even if he'd been in the dungeons for most of the day. A barrage of high level attack spells against the castle's wards would be very hard to miss. He'd have felt the reaction of the wards, if he'd somehow managed to miss the noise.

But when he entered the staff room the atmosphere wasn't nearly as worried as he'd expected. The headmaster was even laughing. Maybe this wasn't Voldemort's next move, yet. A prank by the Weasley twins perhaps? Or maybe Saint Aignon had suggested reintroducing mandatory prayers before every meal? He wasn't sure what arguments Albus had used to stop those. It had happened before he'd been hired.

Minerva McGonagall greeted him with an apprehensive look. That too was a good sign. Whatever was to be discussed here was likely to give him ammunition against Gryffindor. All the clues seemed to point at the Weasley twins then. Severus relaxed a little.

"Oh Severus," Flitwick greeted him with a bright smile. "You're going to love this. It's hilarious."

Severus raised an eyebrow at him. "We have an emergency and I'm expected to love it?"

"It is more of a nuisance than an emergency," Madam Pince announced. "But I want it fixed. It's creating a disturbance in the library."

"It appears that Mr. Weasley accidentally turned one of our library tables into a wall," the headmaster explained.

"Well, that's nice to hear," Severus sneered at the group. "But these things do happen. Why does Mr. Weasley's incompetence at Transfiguration require a staff meeting? He isn't the only dunderhead in this school."

"Because it isn't actually incompetence at Transfiguration," Minerva explained. "He claims to have been attempting to cast marbosortia."

"And yes, Severus, we are talking about that Mr. Weasley," Filius added. "The one of impossible potion accident fame."

"Marbosortia?" Well, that was indeed an achievement.

"Don't ask me why he was practising that particular charm," Filius continued. "It's on the third year curriculum, but I haven't taught it to his class, yet and he is bad enough at the charms we have been through not to have any reason to study ahead. Perhaps he thought it would help somehow."

"Or perhaps he thought playing with marbles would be more fun," Severus sneered. "That boy is so lazy he thinks twice before opening a book."

"Anyway, he has admitted to having mispronounced the spell, so we suspect that he said mutosortia casting an unspecified muto instead of a summoning spell," Minerva continued. "He also admits the table only changed after his second spell, but how he got from marbosortia to specifying a wall is anyone's guess."

"I'd suspect muremsortia to be closest, but since that is the correct spell for summoning a wall, shouldn't it have taken precedence over the open specification?"

"It should indeed," Albus agreed. "But we can't discount the possibility that his wand movements were wrong, even if the pronunciation was correct."

"I take it the boy has no idea what he said?" Severus asked rhetorically. "How typical. Of course we can't assume correct pronunciation, if he didn't even cast the spell he intended to."

"Mr. Weasley's Latin is just barely acceptable," Professor Stylus agreed. "Though he is surprisingly good at learning Latin prayers by heart." He nodded towards Sir Fulko. "Excellent memory and dedication. He just doesn't bother to remember the grammar or meaning of the words."

"It is also quite possible that Weasley's second spell did nothing at all," Minerva said. "And a student at a nearby table happened to mention the word wall loud enough for the open spell to pick up on it."

"Whatever may have done it," Filius intervened. "We seem to be unable to counter the spell. Neither general nor specific counter charms worked and Minerva has been unable to transfigure the wall back into a table for more than a few seconds."

"Have you tried vanishing or banishing it?" Severus asked. "It's not like that table was particularly valuable, was it?"

"No, but the Weasleys would still insist on covering the costs and they are currently in a very tight financial situation," Albus explained. "We shouldn't do that to them, if at all possible."

"It's Weasley's own fault for being so irresponsible," Severus sneered. Honestly what had the boy expected trying an unfamiliar spell without adult guidance or proper preparation when he was fully aware of his lack of ability in the subject?

"But with no bad intent and certainly no fault of the rest of the family," Saint Aignon threw in. "Maybe some other sort of compensation could be agreed on, something the boy can do himself. Tutoring lessons perhaps?"

"Well, definitely not Charms or Potions," Filius reminded them. "Transfigurations perhaps?"

"Out of the question," Minerva replied immediately. "Maybe something less accident prone. A more theoretical subject might be best, perhaps History of Magic. There's no actual magic he can mess up there."

"And no students in need of tutoring," Filius reminded her. "History requires no understanding, talent or intelligence, merely reading the textbook and memorising dates."

Albus looked around at the other teachers, but nobody volunteered. "Well, which subject does he get his best grades in?"

"Religion," Minerva said after checking her catalogue. "But they aren't exactly spectacular. Weasley is an averagely talented, slightly lazy student. There's nothing that really stands out except for his abysmal performance in Potions."

"So, could he tutor Religion?" Albus asked the Templar.

"The only student currently getting tutoring is Miss Wheeler due to her medical condition," Saint Aignon said. "And she is a third year as well. We can't expect him to teach material he is still learning himself. Of the lower years the students who are having problems do so out of laziness and unwillingness. Like History of Magic Religion doesn't require much besides diligence and application. It is the faith that is important, not understanding. After all the Lord loves all his children equally no matter what talents each of them has."

"Maybe there's something he could do in the library," Jonathan Harker suggested. "Hand out books or assist with filing? It's the library that has lost the table, so it only makes sense that it should profit from the compensation."

Madam Pince looked thoughtful, then beamed at Jonathan in a way Severus had never seen before. The woman appeared to be actually enthusiastic!

"That's brilliant," she exclaimed. "He can help me find misplaced books and return them to their proper shelves. Or maybe he could sort out damaged books for repairs."

"Ah, that's fixed then," Albus announced happily. "Ronald Weasley is our new library assistant."

"He still has to serve his detentions," Argus Filch grumbled. "Can't let his other offences go unpunished."

The boy would probably have little spare time this year, Severus thought with a touch of uncalled for glee. He tried to tell himself that it was only because it would keep Weasley out of further trouble and give the Slytherins less reasons to retaliate and require discipline.

It would also save Gryffindor a lot of points, but they were already so far behind the other houses that Severus doubted they had any chance at winning the house cup left.

 

Raven waited until the other teachers began to file out of the room before approaching Albus. He didn't want this to attract too much attention.

"Oh Albus, I was wondering whether I might borrow your pensieve for a few hours."

The headmaster looked up in surprise. "My pensieve? Has something happened?"

"Nothing big," Raven replied casually. "Just a nervous second year being too embarrassed to talk about something and too scared to let me legilimise her. Hence she's asked to tell me via pensieve."

"Something serious?"

"Hopefully not, but I'd like to be sure," Severus answered a little less honestly now.

It was completely true that Luna was a nervous second year who had something to tell him via pensieve after all, and even though he had suggested it first Luna had asked for it. Was it his fault, if Albus assumed he was talking about a Slytherin he suspected might have been abused?

 

Raven's letter reached Greypony on a tourist ferry to a Greek island. Clanmaster Sixclaw had promised to meet him there as there was apparently no public transport to the nearby island his clan lived on and paying a fisherman to take him there but not back would attract attention.

The name Sixclaw made him smile whenever he thought of it. He couldn't help imagining the Greek high-priest looking just like little Sixtoe back in Iceland. Right now wasn't the time to be homesick, though. Some of the Muggle tourists had seen him accept the seagull delivered message and were giving him odd looks.

He decided to wander out of their sight as if he were looking for a place to eat or a restroom. If anyone addressed him, he could always resort to answering them in Icelandic, but it was easier to evade them before they got that curious.

Below deck the ferry seemed almost empty and quiet. Just a few natives who'd fled what they considered cold weather here.

Greypony ignored them and claimed the bench furthest away from them to read his letter. They didn't pay him any attention, though. Maybe they saw so many tourists everyday that they'd become boring or maybe they recognised and respected his wish for privacy. It didn't really make a difference as long as they were leaving him alone.

He was curious to hear Raven's thoughts on Silence's clan and their lifestyle, but soon realised that he wouldn't find those in this letter. This seagull had come directly from Latvia, poor bird. It told of the visit with Lightdance's clan who lived in colourful gypsy tents and travelled in some kind of strange wagons that had apparently amused Raven.

'You might want to consider visiting Albania on your way back from Greece,' Raven suggested passing on Lightdance's information. 'Lightdance's friend Curl is likely to welcome you with open arms. He also has Slovene and Czech cousins nicknamed Streaker and Riverlight respectively. You'll have to forgive me for not giving you their real names, but I can neither pronounce nor spell them. It was also good to renew my acquaintance with your cousin. He tells me he has met an interesting girl in Norway and is now off to meet friends in Denmark and Sweden. Lightdance's rumoured eastern contacts turned out to be in Russia and Mongolia. I'm wondering whether that isn't too big a distance both physically and culturally for our purpose, though. Please tell me what you think.'

Russia? Well, that could be a huge distance or it could be practically next doors to Lightdance and Nightsky. He'd have automatically assumed the later, if the second contact hadn't been in Mongolia.

It was a big decision indeed. Was this going to be a European project or should they extend it into Asia? From Mongolia it would be a small step to China and from there India, Indonesia ... Japan? Asia was huge and offered a lot of wilderness that would be perfect for Catar to retreat to and most Asian countries' wizards were a lot less hostile towards their kind. The Templars had little say among Buddhists, Hindus and Moslems. There were likely to be a lot of clans there. China alone might house hundreds. Why would they even want to join up with European clans? They were likely to have fully functional high councils much closer to home.

On the other hand he was curious to meet the Mongolians. They were most likely nomadic people with a lifestyle similar to his own clan, yet probably more centered around horses. At least he saw no reason for them to adopt a different lifestyle in a country where it would seem perfectly normal even to Muggles.

Wouldn't Loki love a chance to visit them? He was already getting a foreign apprenticeship with Raven and even wizards, but it would teach him little about hunting and with two undertrained kittens on his paws Raven would have no time to teach him warrior skills. It might be a good strategic move to send a kitten or two to France to learn those, but the thought made Greypony uneasy.

Perhaps a few months in Mongolia should round up Loki's education, though and it might be a good place to send other kittens as well, safer than Scotland and more useful than Rome.

It seemed unlikely that the Mongolians would even consider joining a high council in Europe, but perhaps establishing communication lines would be of interest to them. They definitely should present themselves as an opportunity for enterprising kittens to see more of the world and broaden their horizons.

Exchanging information via the Russians or Lightdance's people could put a possible European council in contact with other councils all over Asia.

He was tempted to reply to Raven's letter right away and tell him of his ideas, but decided to wait until after his meeting with Sixclaw. Raven might be eager to hear his response, but a few hours wouldn't make much of a difference and he'd want to know about the Greeks as well.

So he just made himself as comfortable as possible on the bench and continued to read. The rest of the letter consisted mostly of a progress report on Loki with a few mentions of Rascal and Firewheel strewn in. Loki's English was improving rapidly, which was excellent news, though not unexpected and, if he interpreted Raven correctly, Firewheel had befriended a clanless girl-kitten who could help her learn about human culture and magic. Things seemed to be going well in Scotland.

The ferry landed about fifteen minutes later and Greypony got off with the crowd of out of season tourists, mostly elderly people in travel groups and young couples with children too young to be in school and some young couples that were probably still childless or had dumped their children on some relative or other. There might have been some honeymooners among them as well, but Greypony suspected that those were probably staying to themselves and rarely leaving their hotel rooms. They'd have other things on their minds than sight-seeing.

He didn't understand the human custom of running off to a distant country right after taking a new life-partner. They should be at home building their hut and making it comfortable. And making their first kitten, of course, which was after all what people got married for as even the human honeymooners demonstrated.

Or perhaps he was misinterpreting their behaviour. They were humans not cats. Perhaps they felt and thought differently about kittens. Watching the humans around him seemed to indicate so. The tour groups had been herded into busses that were now departing one by one and only the young couples remained trying to calm down crying babies, find misplaced bottles, searching for a place for an emergency diaper change or discussing where to buy formula on the island.

An about five year old girl looked at him with deep brown eyes thumb in her mouth and a stuffed monkey clutched tightly to her chest. Behind her her parents were enthusiastically planning out a travel route and listing sights they wanted to see. Her eyes promised she intended to be good and not get in their way much, but she wasn't expecting much pleasure from seeing cultural sights she was too young to understand the significance of.

He wondered why humans insisted on taking babies like her on such trips. Couldn't they see they were boring her, that she'd be much happier visiting her grandparents or playing in the garden at home? Why take the trouble of travelling with a baby, if there was nothing in it for the child? Did the humans actually enjoy the desperate search for baby bottles, diapers and bathrooms? The crying on ferries, planes and tour busses?

He couldn't feel a Catar aura around, so he decided to take a little walk around the town before he attracted the attention of the people working at the harbour. It seemed to consist entirely of white houses and flowerpots, though many of them looked dead and empty now. He assumed the flowers were meant to be blooming in summer at the peak of the tourist season, though even now it was hot enough for all sorts of plants.

Did he share the humans' taste in potted plants, he wondered. They were tamed, enslaved things not allowed to unfold in the wild natural beauty he was used to seeing at home, but then any plant he was used to would probably shrivel up and die in the unforgiving heat of this foreign land.

Greypony sighed. There was no denying it anymore, his heart was calling him home. Even though he'd only been away for about three months it seemed like an eternity and it didn't help that it was a summer-hot spring here when the ground was still frozen at home.

He wondered how much the kittens had grown in his absence, whether the food supplies were lasting through the winter this year, whether his daughter missed him. He hadn't even seen Loki in so long. After Albania he'd make a quick stopover at Hogwarts. Maybe he'd feel better after spending a weekend with his son.

It'd also give him a chance to check up on Firewheel and see how she was coping with her new life and Dustcloud's betrayal. Raven assured him that she'd get over the shock, but that probably meant that she was suffering badly right now.

He hadn't even realised that he'd wandered back to the shore and stopped to stare out at the sea. Even it looked different here than it did in Iceland, calmer, warmer, tame. He wondered whether Odin would hear his prayers here in Poseidon's realm.

Or maybe even Poseidon no longer listened to a people long turned towards a different faith. Iceland's gods weren't as present in the humans' minds as they used to be, but even after all this time they were far from forgotten. Rome had turned its back on Mars and Jupiter long ago, though. Were the gods of the south as lost and alone in this land as he was, abandoned and forgotten by the people?

"Why so blue?"

The cat had snuck up on him without a warning, but he was still dampening his aura and Greypony had been too distracted to look for him.

"Just thinking of a sad story," he told the stranger. It didn't seem a good idea to admit to him that his homeland was making him homesick.

"Want to talk about it?" Sixclaw offered. "Usually it helps to share."

Greypony regarded him silently for a moment. He didn't even know this cat, but the offer seemed genuine enough and he was here to try and befriend these people. Admitting to the homesickness still seemed like a bad idea, though.

"A while ago a fried and I visited another clan," he started. He'd have to be careful not to reveal anything too private about other cats, but it certainly wouldn't insult Sixclaw to tell him of Firewheel's troubles. "They were afraid keeping contact with us would attract too much attention to them, but promised to consider it and asked us to take one of their kittens as an apprentice. A pretty, well mannered kitten they' raised for sixteen winters, but insisted was still clanless. They apprenticed her to my friend, a warrior, even though it was her ambition to become a huntress and his life circumstances are very different from what she was used to. I don't think she even wanted a foreign apprenticeship, though she was too polite to tell us. She didn't seem the adventurous type. So my friend took her home to a foreign country and completely new way of life and soon after her clan informed her that they never wanted to see her or us again and they'd kill her, if she ever tried to contact them." It would go too far to include the attempt to use Firewheel as an assassin, he decided. He just couldn't accuse a fellow clan master of such despicable actions.

Sixclaw stared at him. "Surely they don't really mean to hurt her. They're probably just overpopulated and unable to feed her. I'll take her, if you can't. There are some good fishers in my clan, loving and patient teachers. It mightn't be exactly the kind of hunting she's used to, but the fish's plenty around here and she'll grow healthy and strong on it."

"Oh, there's no problem placing her," Greypony assured him. "Raven's delighted to keep her. A female hunter's just what his clan needs, though her clan couldn't possibly have known. What's bothering me is the way they treated her. If they had too many kittens, surely some of them would have liked the promise of adventure in a foreign land. They could have just asked for volunteers. Raven wouldn't have denied them, even if it wasn't a female or a hunter they offered, and neither would I. Why call her clanless after sixteen years? She could have made a normal switch of clans and kept exchanging messages with her friends and adopted family. What has become of our race that we'd turn on our kittens like that?"

He hadn't been fully aware of how much this bothered him until now. It had indeed helped to tell the edited version of the story, though he was unsure whether he should have. Discussing these things with Raven was one thing, but Sixclaw was a complete stranger.

"All this is in strict confidence between clan masters, of course," he added quickly. "I wouldn't want others to think badly of that clan."

"If that is how you see it, I will keep quiet," Sixclaw promised. "Though I think a story like that should be told, if only to demonstrate our disapproval of such behaviour. Every kitten should know that it is not done to cast out your fellow cat or threaten harm to a kitten. If we are going to arrange exchanges of kittens, I'd like to have a clear set of rules that we all agree to. A rogue clan that abandons kittens like that is not an acceptable destination for any of my clan's kittens."

He'd clearly been in contact with Silence or one of his people. Greypony hadn't mentioned the idea in any of his letters to him.

"It should be on a voluntary basis," he said. "I think everybody will agree on that. And I don't like the idea of arranging pairings unless the kittens have met and agree."

"You've got cats pushing for blind marriages as well?" Sixclaw said surprised.

"Not really, no," he explained hastily. "Just one clan that seemed interested in marrying a kitten outside clan. We never discussed the matter and I assume they'd have asked for a meeting, if I'd mentioned knowledge of a suitable mate. It just made me think about possible problems."

"Such marriages could be a good idea," Sixclaw stated. "We inbreed too much."

"They will also be more difficult than they used to be. Few of the clans we've found share the same language and lifestyles differ widely. The kitten I told you of moved from a forest clan to another, so hunting will be much the same and she already knows English, even if it isn't her first language, but her original clan had no contact with humans while her new one has established wizard identities. It's a bit of a culture shock."

"Is she having problems with that?"

"It doesn't seem so, but I've been trying to imagine one of my kittens moving to Rome and I doubt any of them could handle it."

"But those from other clans might like it," Sixclaw commented calmly. "Facilitating kitten exchanges doesn't mean each clan has to do an exchange with every other clan. Who has that many kittens in the first place?"

Sixclaw was right of course. Maybe he was worrying over nothing and Firewheel would be happy in her new clan and forget the old one once she got over the first shock, Lantern would proudly bring home a bride from a clan with a more human lifestyle, Lightdance's and his own surplus kittens would move to Scotland and maybe one or two would choose to join Mistwalker's clan and avoid culture shock entirely.

He was so deep in thought about the kittens that he only realised the way Sixclaw spoke of 'us' whenever he mentioned the theoretical future high council after they'd boarded the Greek's fishing boat and sailed out of the harbour. It was strange how the foreign sea that had seemed so depressing less than an hour ago looked friendly and comforting from this angle.

 

"You've put a lot of effort into the place," the woman with wild black hair comments.

"I did it for the kittens," he explains not taking his eyes off the distant castle. They are too far away, but he still thinks he can see the boats crossing the moat carrying the new and returning students to the school. There will be no kittens among them this or any future year. "All in vain."

He wonders how long the school will last now that he has left. Even if they've turned against him, the loss of one member will always destabilise a group's dynamics. It might well break the ties between the other three and then Hogwarts will either die with their friendship or somebody else will take their place steering it into an uncertain future.

If Hogwarts survives into the next generation, how long will it last? Does it matter if it will never see another kitten? Why does he still care?

"Maybe," his companion says. "Or maybe not. Perhaps in a decade or two the wind will change. The humans are an instable lot. You never know what you'll get with them. Times change and that castle of yours is built to last. Maybe someday it shall be ours again."

Or theirs entirely as it has never been, he knows though she still doesn't dare speak such words in his hearing. Despite his leaving, despite the dream burning to cinders he still feels that it would be just as much a failure as the current situation, if the castle were to fall entirely into Catar hands. It was meant to be shared.

"For now, though, we have other business to attend to," she nudges him gently. "Leave the humans to themselves and we shall take care of ourselves as it should be."

"Lets go home then," he agrees, but lingers a moment longer as she transforms and slips into the underbrush.

Perhaps Hogwarts will last for many generations, perhaps someday the wind will change and yet unborn kittens will walk the halls that were home to him not so long ago. Halls he doubts he'll ever see again.

Just for a moment he reaches out with all the magic he can reach to cast his blessing for his unknown brothers and sisters, his blessing and a plea not to forget his dream. Hogwarts will know them and protect them as long as his magic will last. He doesn't think it likely that even the castle will stand that long.

Again Firewheel woke up confused from her dream and for a moment there between sleeping and waking she felt a connection running back through the centuries as if she could almost touch Littlepaws.

'I am here,' she thought at him. "We are here. It was not in vain. This may not be what you intended, but you gave us a home when we have nothing else left, a home for strays and the last survivors of dead clans. You gave us each other when without this place we'd have nobody."

She wondered whether Littlepaws would still think this a failure, because even though they were living and studying with the humans, the humans remained unaware of their presence.

They were using the humans, she realised with a start, when Littlepaws' intention had been for them to work together.

'But they don't want to work with us, Lord Littlepaws. They keep working against us wherever they find us!'

There was no answer from the darkness around her, but then what answer to today's problems could the past provide? Her hope, like Littlepaws', lay in the future and it didn't yield a glimpse.

 

"We won, Albus," the Minister of Magic repeated. "We won this one."

"Yes, Cornelius," Albus confirmed. "But at what price?"

"Of course the deaths of those Aurors are tragic," Fudge assured him. "But they gave their lives willingly to defend our world and people. They died as heroes and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did not get whatever he was after. Even the damages to the buildings were minimal. Diagon Alley will be back to business as usual tomorrow morning."

"It was just a minor attack," Albus reminded him. "And it cost the lives of sixteen people, eleven of them on our side."

"There were no civilian casualties at least," Severus Snape pointed out. "That much is indeed positive news."

Albus sighed. As far as he was concerned every life lost in this war was a tragedy, but the only way to stop the deaths was to end the war and there were only two possible ways to do so. The easier and faster one would be to surrender, but then everything they had fought for would be lost and Albus didn't even want to imagine how many lives that 'peace' would take. There was no telling how much blood it would take to satisfy King Voldemort.

This was no time to grieve or celebrate, they had a war to fight. "Do we have any ideas what he was after?"

"Gringotts?" Filius Flitwick suggested. "It's close to the scene at least."

"The bank itself, or something inside?" Remus Lupin asked.

"Either is possible," Severus analysed. "There are many valuable and powerful objects stored there that would certainly be useful to him, but loss of the bank itself would destabilise our entire economy. It could even cause the ministry to break down, if they were no longer able to pay their employees."

Even Aurors needed to eat and feed their families, yes. Why had he never realised before what a crucial point in this war Gringotts could become?

"He was closer to the Diagon Alley church," Sir Fulko stated. "He was obviously going to attack the church."

"That is a possibility," Severus allowed. "The building itself would be of little strategic use, but there were innocent civilians there. A bloodbath in a church certainly would shock and frighten people. Still, I think attacking Gringotts makes more sense, if you have enough power. The goblins are not an easy opponent."

Sir Fulko jumped out of his chair yelling something about the importance of faith.

"Fulko, please," Albus caught his arm just in case he went for his wand. "Gringotts is actually the less risky target."

"What!" Saint Aignon roared.

"Think about it," Albus said trying to project as much calm as possible. "Destroying the church would be a direct attack on God and the true faith. It might demoralise the faithful, or galvanise them into action against the blasphemer. Unlike the destruction of Gringotts losing the Diagon Alley church will not cripple the Ministry or even the Temple. It is one of our larger churches, yes, and quite beautiful, but there are enough other wizarding churches. Most of our people can apparate and the rest can floo to attend Mass anywhere in the country. Or the Ministry could supply them with emergency portkeys until the church is rebuilt. If Voldemort wanted a fight with the Temple, it would make much more sense to go for the grand master or one of the more strategically placed castles of the order."

"You can't expect a madman like Riddle to always make sense," Filius warned. "It could be an act of random rage."

"It could be, but the attack was too well organised to have been put together on impulse. It looks like a planned operation and Voldemort's plans have always made sense up until now. Unless there was someone or something in the church that is relevant to his plans, I think we can discount it as the main target. It might have been intended as a feint to draw our forces away from somewhere else, though."

Saint Aignon took a deep breath and to Albus' relief did indeed calm down. "They would have attacked during or right after Mass, if that were the case, so we'd have had to send people to protect and evacuate the civillians as well as to defend the building. Considering the time of the attack the Leaky Cauldron would have been a more effective diversion."

"The Leaky Cauldron or Gringotts, then," Albus summed up. "Any other likely targets?"

"Any shop that might contain something that Voldemort needs," Severus said. "We still don't know what his current plan is, so we can only guess. The attack could be an indication that he has found whatever he was looking for in Azkaban, though. If so, he's likely to make another move soon."

"There's a blasphemous book missing from the library," Saint Aignon growled suddenly.

"About the early years of the Founders," Severus stated calmly. "As by your permission I have hidden it in my quarters where no curious and naive students might see me search it."

"Does such a thin book really merit such long study?" Saint Aignon questioned.

"I have been busy with too many other tasks," Severus explained and Albus wondered why it felt to him like he was lying. It was all perfectly obvious truth after all. "The book is of particular interest, because it mentions an incident of Salazar Slytherin handling a wand."

There were some excited exclamations and whispers, but Severus as usual ignored them.

"So it proves that he had a wand?" Albus asked. If so, why hadn't Severus reported it sooner?

"No the wand is clearly stated to be Gryffindor's, but if the anecdote is true, Salazar was at least interested in his fellow founders' wands. This curiosity could have led to him learning at least some wand magic later on for which purpose he might have bought a wand of his own. I'm planning to analyse the text for hidden hints as soon as I find time."

Again Albus had the niggling feeling that Severus wasn't telling them the complete truth, but then he trusted the man and it was often wise not to tell Sir Fulko everything.

"Right," he said determined to return the conversation to the more pressing original topic. "So we should assume that the latest attack was an attempt to steal some unique or at least rare magical object. It failed so the object is most likely still in Diagon Alley. Unless he has alternative plans Voldemort is likely to try again. We should tighten security there."

"There are three problems with that assumption," Severus stated. "One: The target may have been a person rather than an object and in that case it is much more likely that Voldemort's next attempt will happen elsewhere as he will expect us to tighten security in Diagon Alley. Two: As you said there might be alternatives. The object in Diagon Alley might just be the one closest. After his failure Voldemort is more likely to go for another. Three: The attack could have been a feint or diversion and in that case drawing part of our forces away from their current stations to secure Diagon Alley might be exactly what Voldemort wanted. How long can we keep an increased number of Aurors there without reducing security elsewhere?"

That was true. Ministry and order forces were already overworked as it was. Even Aurors needed to sleep sometimes. The centaurs and merpeople couldn't be stationed in Diagon Alley, or in fact most of the places the Aurors were guarding. They'd be too obviously out of place.

"Then you suggest to do nothing?" Severus was their best strategist, but sometimes Albus worried that he was too cold about the loss of lives in the war.

Maybe. It was hard to tell what was really going on behind his mask. Even more than other Slytherins Severus was good at hiding his feelings. Most of the time it was only his secret actions that gave Albus a hint when his young friend was troubled about something.

"I suggest to keep people ready to move quickly in any direction," Severus said. "If you are going to station additional soldiers, do it at a floo station."

Not a bad idea at all, but where to take the soldiers from?

"We could use the more advanced trainees," Fudge suggested. "Station them in barracks near the Ministry floo station."

Albus nodded his agreement sadly. He hated the thought of using the Ministry's conscripted soldiers before they had even completed what little basic training they could be given in the middle of a war, but the necessity didn't come completely unexpected. They'd discussed it before.

"Excellent," Severus agreed and Albus once again wondered what he actually felt.

Albus knew that Severus cared a lot about his students and not just those of his own house even though it often appeared that way. Few people were able to notice and interpret the signs, though. Was it the same here? Was he simply unable to see Severus' worry for the soldiers?

What was his Potions teacher up to this year anyway? His frequent absences couldn't be entirely due to having found a new friend. Albus was pretty sure that he hadn't met Grey on this last trip nor could he see any connection with Potions or the war effort.

Severus was plotting something and so far there was no telling what the two foreign students might have to do with it. In fact Albus wasn't entirely sure Loki Grey had any connection to the plot other than being his father's son. Mr. Grey was clearly involved somehow, but all his secret observance and background checks on Loki showed him nothing but an ordinary wizarding boy, curious and very open to new experiences, but an overall average student. Perhaps Mr. Grey had merely brought him here because he'd been worried that he'd get underfoot at home while he was away, or maybe a Hogwarts education counted for more in Iceland than Albus realised. Loki was a good influence on Draco Malfoy in any case, so Albus could see why Severus would have agreed. The Icelandic boy was surely the least likely Slytherin in his year to join the death eaters and his eagerness to know more about Muggles and Muggle borns was sure to at least make Draco's re-examine his views as well.

Fiona Wheeler was a different matter. Her passport had turned out to be a hasty, but well crafted piece of forgery and there seemed to be no other records of her existence, neither Muggle nor wizarding ones.

Lucius Malfoy had claimed her as his niece and was keeping up a front of politely interested, but secretly ashamed uncle. The role didn't suit him well and Albus was almost sure that Fiona's school money didn't come out of Lucius' fortune, even though the weekly sweets packages from 'home' apparently did.

The packages were dutifully delivered by Narcissa Malfoy's eagle owl every Friday. Draco's was always a little bigger, but the contents seemed to be mostly the same, wizarding sweets, a letter and occasionally a new quill or ink bottle or other school supplies. Fiona's first delivery had consisted of an expensive potions kit and a nice set of writing utensils. School books had followed the next week, but never any clothes.

Where had Fiona gotten her school robes? The first set had probably been borrowed from Draco, excellent quality, but a little too short for her and decorated with the Slytherin crest. She'd only worn them for one day, though.

Of course she might have borrowed Gryffindor robes from a classmate that was closer to her size than Draco, but it wasn't like Lucius to allow a family member to be seen in borrowed robes and they looked brand new.

Severus or Poppy Pomfrey could have bought them and gotten a refund from Lucius later, Albus supposed. Poppy would definitely have been in the best position to get the girl's measurements. That was probably what they'd tell him, if he asked. He doubted it was the truth, though.

No, for some reason, by some means Severus had convinced Lucius to cover his import of an illegal minor into the UK. Albus knew his Potions Master well enough not to doubt his intentions, but then why hadn't he asked him instead of the death eater? Why risk entrusting the secret to a shady character like Lucius Malfoy and possibly even indebt himself to him?

Severus wasn't foolish enough to rely on Lucius' good will or friendship, so he had to have some other bargaining tool that guaranteed Lucius' cooperation. Albus frowned.

If there was blackmail material Severus had on Lucus, Albus wanted it, needed it in fact. Few others could get as close to Voldemort as Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps the man even knew or could find out what his next plans were.

But then Severus had to know all that as well. Why hadn't he ever tried to use whatever he had to gain information on Voldemort? Oh, if only there were a way to look into Severus' head!


	26. Chapter 25: Mousehunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Please bear in mind that Luna's impressions are not statements of fact. She has a tendency to let her emotions influence her judgement and overestimate new things in comparison to already familiar ones.

Chapter 25: Mousehunters

 

It wasn't until Firewheel led her into the dungeons that Luna realised that maybe she should have asked her who Raven was before agreeing to do this. Then again what choice did she have? Raven was her elder, a real high priest even. A clanless kitten below transformation age really couldn't afford to upset him, especially if he was an unpleasant person and likely to take it out on her or her father later. Someday they might need his clan's help and, if Raven remembered her as a well mannered and cooperative kitten, perhaps he'd be her ally rather than opponent. At the very least he'd be neutral.

At first she considered the possibility that there was a secret tunnel somewhere down here that Raven used to sneak into the castle, but Firewheel led her right down the familiar corridor that led to the Potions classroom. No, if Raven snuck in secretly, he'd meet them in a less well used part of the castle. This area was much too busy, if you wanted to go unnoticed.

She felt a hint of relief when they passed the caretaker's office and quarters. Filch would probably have hung her from the wall in manacles, if she confessed to having snuck out of the castle and there was a Transfigurations essay she'd been planning to finish before curfew.

For a moment she entertained the hope that they were heading for the Slytherin dormitories, but if so, it could only be to meet some of Firewheel's fellow Catar students. Firewheel's cousin Draco Malfoy was a likely candidate, Luna thought. Raven himself couldn't be a student. Even the seventh years were much too young to be high priests.

Firewheel walked right on past the Potions classroom and Snape's office, though. Maybe all the kittens met up in the Slytherin common room to walk to class together? Perhaps Raven intended to collect her memory on the side while he was already here to teach a scheduled lesson. Then, if she could extract it fast enough, she might get a chance to watch the older kittens' exercises and learn something herself!

But just before they would have reached the Slytherin corridor Firewheel took an unexpected left turn into a little used side corridor and stopped in front of a door Luna had not expected to ever cross in her life.

Luna had known about it since her first month at the school, but she doubted that any of her classmates had ever been down here. The Slytherins perhaps, but most likely no Ravenclaws were even aware of the existence of the corridor.

She had discovered it quite by accident one day after Potions class. Some older students had promised to show her a snorkling, if she met them at the statue of Old Aldric the Dark after class and curiosity as usual overriding her sense of self-preservation she'd gone.

Just before turning the last corner she'd heard giggling, though and had stopped to listen to her older friends' conversation about all the humiliating things they'd do to her once they had lured her away from adult supervision.

Luna hadn't particularly fancied the idea of having to walk back to the common room naked and wet with a flashing inscription of Loony on her belly and behind, so she'd turned around and fled back the way she'd come. Better to be known as a coward among her housemates than be the laughing stock of the entire school and probably catch cold on top of it.

When she'd heard voices from somewhere near the Potions classroom, though, she'd panicked and ducked around the nearest corner to hide.

To this day Luna had no idea how long she'd stood there clinging to the wall and listening for the sounds of people passing by, but only able to hear the hammering of her own heart. It had probably just been a group of Slytherins on the way to their common room and not at all interested in lost little Ravenclaw girls, but if they'd spoken to her the Ravenclaw bullies would probably have heard and come for her.

Unable to tell whether the way back upstairs was clear and where the bullies were now she'd stood there fighting tears until eventually Professor Snape had walked out of the only door in sight freshly changed for dinner.

Luna took a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face. All in all this wasn't a bad memory to keep in mind when entering Snape's den. He'd been her saviour that day after all, even though he'd glared and called her a nitwit when she'd claimed to have taken a wrong turn on the way back from Potions class and gotten lost. He'd allowed her to accompany him to the great hall and not only scared off the bullies when they'd met them on the way, but actually assigned them detention for insolence to a teacher. Luna had been well aware that he'd probably just done that, because he'd thought that they'd intended to prank a Slytherin, but it had been a small victory and the bullies had assumed that being caught by Snape had prevented her from meeting them, so she wasn't even accused of cowardice.

"Albatross," Firewheel told the door before pressing down the handle and walking into Snape's home as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The Slytherins had a point when they claimed that Gryffindors had no sense of self-preservation.

Luna followed her more hesitantly and closed the door behind her.

Three cats' heads turned towards them and Firewheel immediately popped into catshape as well so they could exchange licks in greeting.

Unable to imitate that move Luna took a nervous step backwards and leaned against the door feeling out of place and ashamed. At least the other two kittens looked younger than Firewheel.

Raven on the other hand ... Raven was huge. A good hand span taller than her father she estimated and a perfect midnight black colour that probably shouldn't have caught her by surprise considering his name. Her father had told her that black Catar without any white markings were rare, though. Not that she thought he'd have looked any less impressive, if she'd been used to seeing black Catar all the time.

Even in his catform he had the same powerful presence he had in the classroom in his human disguise. He was in full control of everything that happened in the room and he wouldn't miss the tiniest mistake anyone made.

To make things even worse his full attention was on her. Even as he gave Firewheel a casual, but gentle lick across the ear his eyes never left Luna.

Then, seemingly without effort, he jumped over Firewheel and melted into the more familiar human form right in front of her. Luna almost forgot to breathe. How foolish she'd been to assume that she knew what it meant to be a high priest from her father's tales. This cat had powers a simple clanless stray could know nothing of. How could she have even dreamed of him agreeing to teach her?

She couldn't just stand there like a statue, though. The high priest had deemed her worthy of his attention and she had to greet him and demonstrate her submission. Carefully choosing her words she forced her mouth open, but all that came out was a high pitched "Mewl!"

Luna blushed deep red and wished she could melt into the ground or door.

Raven however actually smiled a little. "Do come in, little Luna," he said. "And don't be afraid of the kittens. They may be an ill mannered bunch that doesn't know to properly greet their sister, but they don't bite."

Now the other three looked embarrassed and with three sudden pops turned humanshaped as well. A far away part of her mind was pleased to realise that she'd been correct about the Malfoy boy. The third one, or actually the first to change, took her a moment to place, but then she remembered seeing him sit next to Draco at meals. She thought somebody might have mentioned that he was an exchange student from Iceland.

"I ... I'm just a baby," she stammered her tongue still out of control.

"Our baby sister nevertheless," Raven said and gestured towards a slightly shabby looking armchair by the fireplace. "Do sit down. You will find that it is much easier to extract a memory when one is comfortable."

Luna walked to the chair on trembling legs and sat down gingerly. "I never have ... before ... you know."

Oh, why couldn't she at least manage full sentences that actually made sense? She knew that Professor Snape had little patience for nervous stammering.

"Of course not," Raven confirmed. "It doesn't require any special skills, though. Just try to relax and think of the event."

Luna tried, but thinking of the water monster always made her tense and she wanted to please Raven so much. Then there were the older kittens watching her eagerly. She tried to tell herself that they probably just hadn't seen anyone use a pensieve before. Of course they were curious. But what if she messed up? They were all older than her and much more popular. Would kittens bully someone just like human children did? What she'd heard and seen of Draco Malfoy so far wasn't exactly encouraging.

She forced her body to relax. Maybe the physical position would suffice.

"Have you got it?" Raven asked surprisingly gently.

Luna shook her head and felt the muscles in her shoulders and stomach tense up again. "Not yet."

"That's okay," Raven told her. "Just relax. We've got time."

"I ... It's hard to relax when I think of it," she admitted.

"Alright, just try to think of the memory then," Raven said purring softly.

"We'll help," added the unfamiliar kitten eagerly and started purring as well.

The sound was soothing, but it also reminded Luna of the presence of the other kittens. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to picture the monster. Picturing things took a lot of concentration for her and would hopefully distract her from being nervous.

The monster's body had been formed of water and it had glittered and wobbled and ... What had its face looked like? She tried to remember, but couldn't. Desperately she went over every detail of that night searching for the information.

But that was all they needed, right?

"Now," she whispered clinging to the memory. It was so scary, though right now wasn't as bad as that time alone in the Muggle Studies classroom before she'd met Professor Harker.

Something touched the side of her head gently and then Raven said: "That's it. I've got it."

Luna opened her eyes and saw that a silvery strand of something was dangling from Raven's wand. He gently lowered it into the pensieve then bent over it. Luna breathed a sigh of relief.

 

This did not look like the memory he was looking for Raven realised right away as he found himself standing in the Muggle Studies classroom. Luna was sitting in a chair by the window with a book in front of her, but staring wide-eyed at the door rather than reading. Then the door opened and Julian Harker walked in levitating a crate.

Raven pushed himself out of the memory just as Luna greeted him and he dropped his crate. "No, this isn't it." How did Luna associate this memory with the attack of the water elemental? "It's a memory of meeting Professor Harker."

"I'm sorry." Luna hung her head in obvious embarrassment.

"That's alright. You're inexperienced at this. A couple of wrong starts are to be expected." Maybe this amount of concentration was a bit too much to ask of the baby. Luna was too tense to perform well at the moment and a little scatterbrained even at the best of times. "Perhaps we should approach this more slowly. Just relax for a bit and don't try to think of the water elemental."

Firewheel changed back to her catshape and put her head in Luna's lap. Luna smiled tensely and scratched behind her ears.

"You have Religion with Professor Harker?" Raven asked. Maybe a harmless conversation would help her get used to her surroundings.

"No, he isn't one of my teachers at all," Luna answered to his surprise. "I just ... He showed me some Muggle objects that day and I thought it was quite interesting. I've been wondering whether I should take the elective ever since."

"It can be quite useful for a cat to know how to hide among both wizards and Muggles," Raven encouraged her. "If you ever lose your wizarding identity for some reason it is a good idea to disappear into the Muggle world for a while."

"So you approve? But I've always thought that Ancient Runes and Arithmancy are really important subjects and Magical Creatures are so fascinating. And my father thinks I have a talent for Divination. It's just so hard to choose only two."

She really was a Ravenclaw. The Slytherin second years weren't likely to start pondering their elective choices for a few more months yet. Advising students on it was a routine task for any head of house, though. Raven quite easily talked her out of taking Divination, which he only ever recommended to students who were struggling with their grades elsewhere and didn't need the increased workload that came with subjects like Ancient Runes or Arithmancy.

Care for Magical Creatures also wasn't advisable for a kitten. Luna would profit more in this field, if she concentrated on learning Catar lore. He usually recommended not to take both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy as both required a lot of time and effort.

"I know Ravenclaws like to choose both, though and most can handle the workload, but keep in mind that you will also need as much time as possible to practise your cat skills once you start transforming and there's a lot of lore to memorise as well," he finished. If it weren't for that he might have told her to apply for all three electives and hope that they'd be scheduled at different times.

Luna stared at him wide eyed. "You mean, you'll actually teach me?" she gasped, then blushed and ducked staring intently down at Firewheel's ears.

"Of course I will." When had he come to that decision? "Whenever you feel ready to start." What was he saying? Including a baby in his lesson plans would be almost impossible. What was he going to do with her when he took the other kittens into the forest?

But Luna beamed with happiness and finally relaxed enough to re-start the memory transfer. Well, he'd find something to do with her. Maybe he could show her plants and lecture about nature lore while the other kittens played.

They had two more false starts before Luna finally managed to hold on to the memory long enough for him to catch it. Neither of them were pleasant. The fist showed Luna being jumpy on the way to the greenhouses for Herbology class and her classmates teasing her about it, then setting up an ambush on the way back that sent the kitten running back to the castle screaming, but the second memory worried Raven a lot more. Children could be unintentionally cruel, but how could Filius Flitwick who was usually such a kind and patient teacher just walk past one of his youngest Ravenclaws being bullied by older housemates as if it were nothing out of the ordinary? Raven knew from bitter experience that it was almost impossible to bring a house back to unity, if you let such behaviour slide only once. Slytherins weren't allowed to pick on their own. That was one of the rules he made sure to remind his students of at the start of every term. It had never occurred to him that the other houses might not have a similar honour code, tough.

But then Luna finally got it right.

Raven watched the memory three times from different angles until he was absolutely sure. Then he finally pushed out of the pensieve and turned towards the kittens.

"You will not," he told them. "Under any circumstances attempt to summon a water elemental or even just water without the presence of a fully trained priest. Is that understood?"

They nodded, all looking small and scared.

"I don't think I'll ever summon a water elemental at all," Luna added. "I don't even want to learn how."

"You will learn," Raven told her matter-of-factly. "If you want to become a priestess, you have to. Besides, it's quite possible that you have a special talent for it." Average baby kittens did not accidentally banish elementals against their will no matter how scared they were.

 

It came as a complete surprise even to Loki when one evening just when they were about to sit down for dinner his father strode into the great hall. If he'd been prepared for it, he'd probably have handled the situation with a little more dignity, but unprepared as he was he gave in to his first impulse, jumped up, ran over to his father and threw his arms around him.

Greypony hugged him back tightly even lifting him off his feet for a moment, but he didn't pick him up and swing him around the way he had when Loki had been younger. It was a little disappointing, but he supposed he really was too big for it now.

"Dad, I had no idea you were coming back," he exclaimed noticing only afterwards that he was speaking English out off habit. "I thought you were still in Greece."

"Albania," his father returned. "And I should have gone on to the Check Republic from there, but I decided to check up on you first. You've never been away from home this long before after all."

What? His father was worried that he might be homesick? No way! Damn it, he shouldn't have hugged him like that.

"Oh no, I'm having a great time," he declared hastily. "Come on, I'll introduce you to all the new friends I made. All real humans," he added more softly and in Icelandic so nobody would overhear and wonder. "And I'm learning lots of English and human culture here."

He took his father's hand and dragged him over to the Slytherin table to introduce all his dorm mates while already wondering whether he should include the girls as well. Would that make his father worry that he might end up marrying a human like Rascal's mother had, if allowed to stay here for too long? Would that even worry his father?

Maybe if he introduced all his female classmates, he was on the safe side. It was just giving them the same treatment as the boys. Should he introduce Firewheel and Hermione, though? He didn't know any male Gryffindors well enough, but those two Gryffindors could be considered his friends.

"Dad, this is Blaise Zabini and Theo ..." He didn't get any further than that.

Unnoticed by Loki or most likely any of the Slytherins Ron Weasley had entered the great hall only moments earlier and made a little detour on his way to the Gryffindor table.

"Mussortia!" he called just as he passed the third year Slytherins and pointed his wand between them at the table.

There was a splash and then a shriek from Estella as hot soup splashed out of the soup bowl she'd just been about to serve herself from. The other girls drew back with startled yelps.

"Aaah, it's alive!" Pansy shrieked. "Something's alive in the soup bowl!"

There were more shrieks from the girls and other students came running over pushing and shoving each other out of the way to get a look into the bowl. At the head table the teachers were getting up more slowly.

Loki leaned over Millicent's shoulder to see. Indeed a tiny head with a noodle on top was sticking out above the soup's surface. A small animal was paddling desperately through the hot soup.

"Stand aside!" Greypony pushed through the students, picked up a spoon and used it to fish out the unlucky creature.

"It's only a mouse," he announced carefully peeling noodles and vegetables off the sopping wet animal. "Hopefully not too badly scalded."

Rascal stared at the spoon. "But how ..."

"Weasley!" Pansy shrieked in outrage. "You did that! You hexed a mouse into our soup. You thirce accursed, brain-dead, Muggle loving ..."

"Now now Miss Parkinson," the headmaster stepped in. "It was only a prank."

In the chaos Loki hopefully was the only one to hear his father's hiss of outrage.

"Prank?" Raven asked apparently completely calm despite the event. "I must say, headmaster, aren't you perhaps taking this a little too lightly? It is a clear case of animal abuse."

"It's unhygienic!" Estella shrieked.

"Miss Rushton, nobody is going to ask you to eat any of that soup," Professor McGonagall assured her. "Surely even Mr. Weasley didn't expect that." A stern look assured said Mr. Weasley that he better hadn't.

"This isn't about the soup," Greypony told them both. "Though where I come from ruining good food like that is unacceptable behaviour as well. This is about needless harm done to a living creature." He held out the spoon with the barely moving mouse as proof. "This animal was badly scalded and nearly drowned for the 'little prank'. Did you know that mice are very excitable creatures and prone to heart attacks, Weasel?"

"Weasley," Loki corrected.

"Whatever," his father brushed it off still fixing Weasley with his most disapproving glare.

That seemed to impress the foolish Gryffindor more than even Raven and the headmaster could.

"It's not real," he defended himself eyes wide with fear. "I only conjured it."

"And how would that make it any less real?" Greypony snapped.

"Conjured animals aren't illusions, Mr. Weasley," Professor Flitwick lectured. "They are just as real and able to feel fear and pain as you are."

"And I didn't mean to conjure it into the bowl anyway," Weasley continued. "I just wanted it to run down the table and see if anybody would go after it. I was checking for Werecat traitors in the school, you see."

Now the Slytherins were really angry.

"Catar traitors?" Raven snapped at Weasley. "In my house?"

"Well," Weasley gulped. "It seemed the most likely. What with ... Slyherin and all ..."

The headmaster sighed. "Even though it wasn't intentional, your thoughtlessness has indeed hurt a defenceless animal. I believe a detention is in order for that."

"But Albus," McGonagall reminded him. "Mr. Weasley already has so many detentions that it's cutting significantly into his studying time."

Considering Ron's normal performance in the classes they shared Loki doubted that he ever studied at all, but he supposed teachers had a duty to give their students the chance to study whether they used it or not.

"Hm," hummed Dumbledore regarding Weasley thoughtfully. "It'd be too extreme to expel a student for thoughtlessness."

"He is a threat to the other students' safety," Raven reminded him helpfully. "Remember the way he thoughtlessly messed with a potion with the intent to murder me and ended up transforming his classmate? What if somebody had been hit by the wall he conjured in the library? This time he has only conjured a mouse into his fellow students' food, but what if next time it is a poisonous snake in somebody's bed?"

The third year Gryffindor boys exchanged nervous glances, but Raven didn't even look their way. "Expelling him is the only way to protect the other students."

Was he serious?

Dumbledore twinkled and shook his head. "I'm sure even Mr. Weasley knows better than to conjure a dangerous animal and he has learned his lesson about messing with potions without instructions. Expelling him would be an overreaction, but I will owl his parents about this incident and yes, Mr. Weasley, I will inform them of our concerns for the safety of your classmates. If you continue to mess with experimental magic without adult supervision, we may indeed be forced to expel you."

Loki didn't quite understand why Weasley glared at Saint Aignon as if the Templar were to blame for his misfortune.

 

"I can't believe Ron did it again." Hermione shook her head and almost ran into a suit of armour that had for some reason moved several metres up the corridor from its normal place. "When does he even find the time to think up all those hare-brained schemes?"

"I suppose it just comes naturally to him," Harry said. "I bet his animagus form would be a hare."

"I doubt we'll ever find out Ron's animagus form," Hermione said. "He's about as likely to become one as Crabbe and Goyle."

"Out of those three, I'd bet on Crabbe," Fiona decided. "He's the most intelligent."

"Maybe," Hermione allowed probably unwilling to admit that she didn't know the Slytherin boys well enough to judge that. "But few people become animagi. I doubt any of the three will even try."

"Ron might," Harry judged. "As part of one of his crazy plans. He'd probably splinch or partially transfigure himself and wind up in the hospital wing instead, though."

"Why Catar, though?" Fiona asked. "I thought you said his hobby was hunting for imaginary demons."

"Demons, Catar, vampires, werewolves," Hermione listed. "Whatever his favourite monster of the month is. Last month it was demons, the one before vampires."

"So next month all Slytherins will probably be werewolves," Harry joked. "Or maybe just Malfoy and Grey. Or Snape."

"But why them? Why not ... Professor Lupin, or the Hufflepuffs or ..."

"Because Slytherin has all the bullies," Neville said. "And because their founder went dark."

"And they're the house Voldemort was in," Harry agreed. "And most of his death eaters."

"They've got all the bullies?" Fiona asked. "But what about us? What about Fred and George and ..."

"All the houses have produced dark wizards and death eaters," Hermione said. "And Loki says that Slytherin didn't go dark. He was just a Catar."

"But Catar are dark creatures," Harry reminded her. "So what's the difference?"

"The difference is that he didn't turn evil. He just wasn't human. The Catar were declared dark creatures, because they were pagan, but that must have been after Slytherin's time," Hermione explained. "Or else the other founders wouldn't have tried to include them in their school."

"It doesn't really matter now, does it," Neville said. "They're dark now, so Slytherin is dark, too. No matter whether his time saw him that way."

"Yes, I suppose so," Hermione sighed. "All a matter of interpretation and changing moral perceptions."

"Anyway, Ron probably heard that story, too and that's why he decided that the Slytherins are Catar," Neville told Fiona. "In a few weeks somebody will mention some other dark creature and then he'll go looking for whichever one it is. You shouldn't try to interpret him too much. It'll only give you headaches."

"Maybe you're right," Fiona agreed, but she still looked unusually sad and thoughtful.

Harry wished he could distract her from the sad thoughts somehow, but he didn't even know for sure what they were and then they reached the library where they weren't allowed to talk much anyway.

 

Greypony lay curled up in one of the armchairs purring softly when Raven returned to his rooms. Raven didn't ask how he'd gotten in. It didn't really matter whether one of the kittens had given him the password or he'd just slipped through the wards. None of them were designed to keep out a fully trained Catar priest and the more powerful ones that could even though it wasn't their intended purpose hadn't been active.

Those powerful wards would attract too much attention from the headmaster, if activated without an obvious reason.

Salazar's old wards contained a set that was designed to stop Catar intruders, but he'd have had to shift it from Salazar's old quarters to his own, something that the headmaster was likely to notice and only a Catar could do, so Raven had never really considered it.

Maybe he should add a few lesser wards to keep mischievous kittens out of his office, though. They weren't any less likely to nick potion ingredients, prank their teachers or manipulate test results than wizards' children. Anything to stop adult cats was too powerful, though.

"You're braking off the search then?" he asked instead.

"What? Oh no, I'll be off to see the Czech high priest on Monday. What was his name again? Riverlight?"

"Riverlight," Raven confirmed. "So what's wrong then?"

"Wrong? Why should anything be wrong? I thought I'd stop by, give the kittens a quick lick, discuss those Asian cats more freely.

Raven narrowed his eyes at him and let himself sink into the other chair without looking. "Are you worried about Firewheel or the Russians?"

Greypony shrugged. "Both. Neither. I wanted to see a familiar place. The Mediterranean was ... strange."

He couldn't send Greypony to Asia, Raven realised. He might be okay with Russia and even Mongolia, but if they had to go any further south he might suffer a serious culture or climate shock. Perhaps they all would. Catar from Buddhist or Hindu countries would have seen little Templar persecution. Their culture would have developed very differently and their structures would still be intact.

The clans there didn't need their help. Maybe they were overextending themselves already. He'd started out hoping to find one single surviving clan. When had he become so ambitious to reach out beyond his continent?

"Firewheel will be fine," he assured Greypony. "She's hurt, of course, but already making new friends and showing a particular effort to learn about wizarding culture. She'll catch up to Loki soon enough."

"And the water elemental?"

Ah yes, that was still an open end, though theoretically it could wait. Then again ...

"Actually, I could use your help with that. Luna accidentally banished the original attacker back to its own realm and I doubt it will be back anytime soon, but I'd like to make sure that the incident hasn't turned the water element against us or Firewheel." And just in case he didn't want to face the water Lady without backup. Unlike Luna he knew exactly how to banish a rogue elemental and unlike Firewheel he'd be expecting a possible attack, but elementals could strike fast and if more than one answered his summons he wasn't sure he could contain them. What if one got away while he dealt with another and hid in the forest? He'd never be able to find it before it pounced on an unsuspecting kitten, or even worse a disobedient human student looking for adventure in the forest or serving detention with Hagrid. "A quick call to explain our position should suffice, I hope."

Greypony nodded. "Water is not usually an aggressive element. The water Lady won't condone murder."

"I can't have such a vital element stand against us, if I am going to rebuild the clan," Raven stated. "I'll need it." But neither could Dustcloud afford to lose its support and despite everything Raven didn't want to wipe out another clan. He'd have to choose his words carefully.

 

Sir Fulko felt guilty, which wasn't something he experienced often. Usually he made very sure to always fulfil his duties to the letter, pray a lot and represent the official standpoint of his order everywhere he went and in everything he did. Thus he could usually live with the satisfying feeling of always being perfectly in the right.

Where the youngest Weasley boy was concerned however things weren't that clear. Ron was driven by a laudable desire to do the right thing and fight the evil machinations of the devil as any good Christian should and Sir Fulko quite admired his faith and dedication. Besides he was also aware of how much the boy looked up to him. More than most other students he understood the importance of Sir Fulko's lessons and that even outside of class time he was meant to be a guide to the students and staff of Hogwarts.

Hence, didn't Sir Fulko have an even bigger responsibility towards Ron than he already had towards the others? Shouldn't he use the respect the boy had for him to influence him in the right direction? He had known of the boy's mistaken assumption that the Slytherins must be werecats. Why hadn't he tried harder to dissuade him from taking action against them?

They both were lucky, Sir Fulko thought, that only a soulless animal had come to harm this time, but if Ron had chosen a different strategy, innocent students could have come to harm. What damage would it cause to the poor child's heart and soul, if he killed a suspected werecat only to find that it had been a harmless fellow student? Yes, God approved of killing werecats and would forgive a mere boy such a mistake and welcome the innocent soul of the victim, but Ron would still have to live with the knowledge of what he'd done and the dead student's family would suffer the pain of his loss.

And what of the man who knew better, who saw the possible catastrophe coming and didn't stop it? Wouldn't the murder of that student weigh much more heavily against himself than against well meaning but misguided Ron?

He had a duty to get Ron to see the truth and prevent any further mistakes, even if he had to go out of his way and sacrifice some of his important prayer time. Prayer might be the primary duty of the common faithful, but as a priest and teacher his duty towards those he was meant to guide on the right path was more important.

He found Ron outside getting ready for a Flying lesson, which was probably lucky, he thought. After all Ron was a healthy looking boy who didn't suffer from a lack of exercise so missing one Flying lesson could hardly be a problem while taking him out of Professor McGonagall's or Professor Snape's class ... Well, Sir Fulko was well aware of Ron's recent Transfigurations and Potions accidents.

Madam Hooch glared at him for asking to borrow her student anyway. "This is just as important a subject as any other, you know," she snapped.

"Of course," he agreed in order to placate her. "But it is very important that I talk to Mr. Weasley and as far as I know he is a decent flyer. Surely missing a few minutes of practise won't put him irreparably behind."

The Flying teacher transferred her glare from Sir Fulko to Ron who stood there wide eyed clearly torn between the disappointment of missing a chance to fly and the thrill of being this important to Sir Fulko. Sir Fulko smiled at him.

"Very well," said Madam Hooch. "I expect to actually have your full attention for once after you return to class, though. Perhaps that way you'll even end up missing less than you usually do."

Ron beamed at her and nodded eagerly while Sir Fulko wondered what there was to miss other than a bit of exercise and air rushing past you. Well, every teacher liked to think of their subject as demanding, he supposed.

At first he meant to find a place to sit in the Quidditch stands while they talked, but Flying class turned out to be noisy and full of sudden showy manoeuvres that had Ron glancing back over his shoulder every few moments to check what the whooping was about. No, that wouldn't do. Sir Fulko needed Ron's full attention.

So he kept walking past the stands and towards Hagrid's hut where a group of older students was attempting to wrestle a litter of crup puppies into their collars for a walk.

"Oh wow," Ron exclaimed. "I wish we could study those instead of stupid flubberworms."

"All at its time, I suppose," Sir Fulko admonished him gently. "Those students had to start with flubberworms as well and if you are patient and study hard, someday it will be your turn with the crups."

He changed course slightly to take them past the Care For Magical Creatures class and into the quiet and lonely forest where he could finally get Ron's full attention.

"I guess so," Ron said. "But it's hard to wait all the time. Flubberworms are so boring. All we ever do is watch and feed them. I want to do things that actually ... mean something. And I want to do it now, not in two or three years."

"Just like you want to make a difference in the fight against evil," Sir Fulko suggested.

"And protect the wizarding world, yes," Ron nodded eagerly.

"But that fight is not fought here in the school," Sir Fulko stated. "Or at least the exciting and obvious part that you're thinking of isn't. It is fought out there where the devil's misguided tools assemble dark armies and attack people with evil spells and artefacts. Those armies are out of your reach and that is for the best, believe me."

"But ..." Ron started.

"No, really," Sir Fulko cut off his protests. "Their forces are made up of adult wizards who have finished school and passed their NEWTs. A thirteen year old student, no matter how brave, could not hope to survive against them. They know spells you've never heard of, spells you don't even have the magical power to cast, yet and even if you could, they don't fight fair. They kill and maim wizards much more experienced and powerful than you every day."

Now Ron looked scared. "But if they are so dangerous, shouldn't we do everything we can to fight them?"

"And we are," Sir Fulko told him. "My brothers of the Temple as well as the Ministry's Aurors and Unspeakables are out there fighting them everyday and protecting innocent witches and wizards."

"So why can't I be out there as well? Why aren't you?"

"We have to stay here and fight the battle in a different and less obviously glorious way. You are here to learn magic and grow into your powers. With every new spell you master you become a little stronger, a little more able to defend yourself until someday you will take your NEWTs and then you can train as a Templar, or perhaps an Auror, if you prefer a more profane career, and become an opponent that the tools of evil must take seriously. I am here to ensure that you know how to fight off the temptations of evil that strive to lead you astray from the right path and lure you into the service of the dark one, and I am here to assure that dark wizards and demons that you are not yet able to fight yourself can not reach you until you are ready to deal with them."

"But the werecats!" Ron insisted.

"Are hiding and spinning their evil far from here," Sir Fulko stated just as firmly. "They were chased out of this school a long time ago, by the faithful Rowena Ravenclaw and the brave Gordic Gryffindor themselves. They would not dare return now. Even the Dark Lord who is so much more impertinent in the pursuit of his evil doesn't dare attack Hogwarts while he knows that a knight of the Temple and a wizard as formidable as Albus Dumbledore are here to protect it. The Catar know that they aren't strong enough to get past us and will only find death in the attempt. There are no werecats in or near the school, Ron."

"How can you be so sure?" Ron asked a little more meekly.

"Because I have studied the ways of the creatures of evil as part of my training at the Temple," Sir Fulko explained. "I learned how and where to find them, studied their methods and habits and every weakness they have. I too once hoped to prove my faith in grand glorious battles, but our holy order chose me for a different path. It isn't as impressive as fighting dark wizards or demons, but if you are so eager to fight evil, perhaps you'd like to help me with it."

Ron beamed. "Oh could I?"

"If you wish for it with all your heart," Sir Fulko promised. "If you are sure that it is your calling. But you have to remember that a good Christian is humble and does not seek fame and glory or great riches, for my task is more plain and nasty."

Eager young eyes looked at him hungrily. "So what is it? What can I do?"

"To help keep the faithful on the right path and resisting the little everyday temptations of evil, to bring the doubting and misguided back to our Lord and help those raised in false believes to see the light. If you want to help me, you need to start looking for small evil instead of great demons. Look for students who doubt the true faith, who have been raised in the Anglican aberration, who commit small sins like stealing sweets or fighting with their classmates. Talk to them, if you think you can guide them back on your own, offer to be their friend or conscience, if you think that is all they need, convince them to do good deeds and show them what a wonderful feeling it is to have done the right thing. If you don't think you can influence them, then tell me. Perhaps you can spot some stray sheep that I would have overlooked on my own. And of course, you should do good deeds yourself. Help the weak, poor and lonely children of this school and you will put some more good into the world to oppose the evil."

"And if there are demons or Catar in the school?" Ron asked.

"Then I am better equipped to recognise them and deal with them than you are. If there were any here, I would already know. Now run along before Madam Hootch gets angry at us. Maybe there is a struggling student in your Flying class that needs your help."

"Yes, Sir!" Ron exclaimed eagerly and literally ran back the way they had come.

For a moment Sir Fulko felt a touch of worry. The students shouldn't be in the forest alone and it seemed that they had wandered a bit further in than he had intended to, but then the only thing he'd heard on the way was the sound of the occasional bird that hadn't flown south for the winter. The forest looked cold, but peaceful all around and it wasn't a full moon. Surely the truly dangerous beasts did not live this close to the castle and path.

But what was that? Only a few metres from where he stood the bark of a tree looked oddly torn. Hadn't he once learned that this could mean a Catar had sharpened its claws there?

Surely not! Sir Fulko almost laughed at himself. The boy's imagination was getting to him. Most likely a lot of animals sharpened their claws by tearing up trees like this. This was probably done by a bear, or maybe a werewolf during the last full moon. Perhaps Lupin had snuck out for a run. The wolfsbane allowed the poor soul to keep control over his body and suppress the demon, but it didn't allow him to sleep and in wolf shape there wasn't much a man could do alone in his office.

Nevertheless Sir Fulko stepped off the path and cautiously approached the damaged tree. Deep gauges in the wood, splinters standing out, some torn off and lying on the ground and between them a paw print in the snow.

A paw print that quite clearly belonged to a cat, no wolf or bear, and was much too large to have been left by a common house cat.


	27. Chapter 26: Hogwarts Under Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm afraid this is all there is of this fic right now. There's an important scene in the next chapter that I just couldn't get to work out back when I originally wrote it, so I never finished it. I'm planning to return to it and try again someday, but right now I am working on another fic and there are several other writing projects to choose from. This might be the one I turn to after the current one, or I might be more interested in another one by then, so no guarantees when this will continue.

Chapter 26: Hogwarts Under Attack

 

"What's gotten into Ron?" Lavender Brown asked Hermione when she arrived in Religion class.

"Who cares?" Hermione returned a little grumpily. Religion always put her into a bad mood.

"He is acting a bit odd," Neville agreed. "Being nice to the first years, helping Parkinson of all people pick up her books when she dropped her bag ..."

And now Ron was happily handing out songbooks while humming Saint Aignon's favourite version of the Pater Noster only slightly off key.

"He probably slipped a mouse into her book bag," Harry suggested. "Or maybe he's trying to seduce her so she'll tell him all the Slytherins' secrets."

"That doesn't explain being nice to our own first years," Neville said. "He's never accused them of being demons before."

"I'm sure he'll reveal his great master plan soon enough," Hermione shrugged it off. "Right now I'd much rather know where Saint Aignon is. He's never been late for class before."

"Well, he's the only priest in the castle," Harry pointed out. "The lesson can't start without him."

It did start late that day however as Sir Saint Aignon rushed in about fifteen minutes late his boots and mantle wet with snow. Throughout the lesson he seemed distracted and actually forgot what he'd been talking about at one point. If it had been anyone else, Hermione would probably have assumed he was just having a bad day, but she'd never before seen Saint Aignon be anything less than impeccable.

What ever could have unbalanced him this much? And what had he been doing outside? Between classes, Masses, meals, patrolling corridors and prayers Saint Aignon rarely seemed to find time to leave the castle. In fact the only time Hermione remembered seeing him outside had been when he'd fetched Ron out of Flying class the day before.

Maybe Ron's odd behaviour was relevant after all? Or perhaps he knew something. Hermione decided to have a little talk with him during dinner.

 

Raven and Greypony set out just before dinner. They'd be missed at the meal, but Raven wasn't on duty and most likely the other teachers would assume they'd gone out to eat in the village.

"You four will stay inside the castle until we return," Raven told the kittens sternly.

"But I want to come along and see!" Rascal argued. "I've never actually seen a water elemental before."

"I'd like to see the water Lady," Loki agreed.

"Not this time," Raven declared. "We don't know how they'll react. It might be dangerous."

Luna mewed and shifted closer to Firewheel who already had her arm protectively around her.

"We've got claws," Draco reminded them. "We can protect ourselves."

"Claws are useless against elementals," Greypony informed him. "You can only hurt them with magic."

"And that's not easy either," Firewheel confirmed. "They're so fast." She shuddered.

"You," Raven repeated with an almost canine growl in his voice. "Are staying here. This is high priests' business. Little kittens will only get in the way. You're not ready to learn this ritual anyway."

It wasn't the full truth. A priest should know how to summon the water Lady, though they usually weren't required to actually do it, and Firewheel was certainly advanced enough to be taught the chant. Summoning simple air and earth elementals would be a fine next step in her training as well, though and would be safer.

Little Luna of course ... But then neither Luna nor Firewheel wanted to be anywhere near the ritual in the first place. The attack of the elemental was still too fresh in their memories. Raven could only hope their fear would diminish over time. Both kittens could make fine priestesses someday, but they'd have to master the magic of all four elements first.

Now wasn't the time to address that, though. Loki and Rascal had disobeyed him before and neither showed any understanding of the danger involved in this summoning. Foolish, curious little kittens!

"I expect you to use this evening to catch up on your homework," he informed the kittens. "If I return to find that all your assignments for next week are complete, there might be the possibility of an overnight stay in the forest this weekend."

Probably not the best idea he'd ever had as he'd have to explain Luna's absence to Filius somehow, but then both Firewheel and Loki had to work hard to write proper English essays and Rascal always let his homework pile up. It was unlikely they'd manage and then there'd still be the Transfiguration homework Minerva tended to set over the weekend. They'd have to do that on Friday evening to have the weekend free.

Rascal scowled at him, the girls nodded eagerly, Loki resignedly. Yes, they'd do it and that meant they'd have to stay inside.

They left the castle strolling companionably down the path that led towards the village and only slipped off into the forest once they were sure they could no longer be seen from any of the windows. Raven felt more confident once he could transform and feel the ground under his paws. It was beginning to thaw, he realised, the first signs of spring with its new life and the promise of summer and rich food to raise strong kittens on.

An amused purr escaped him when he remembered that his kittens would be well fed at Hogwarts no matter what the season. Ah, this was a good place for a clan despite the presence of the Templar. After all they'd been carrying on right under Saint Aignon's nose for most of the school year so far and he didn't suspect a thing. How dangerous could it be to send well prepared kittens to Hogwarts, if even Firewheel hadn't raised any suspicions?

 

Sir Fulko frowned at his white mantle. How had those long ago Templars managed to keep it clean when they'd spent most of their time outside and on horseback? He'd only been out in the forest for a few hours and it looked filthy and wet.

Ah well, he house elves would deal with it easily enough, but he'd better get changed before going down to dinner. Not enough time left for a bath, though. Nevertheless it had been worth it. One good day's work and the school was safe from werecat intruders.

Five minutes later he decided that he once again looked presentable. A Knight of the holy order of the Temple had to keep up certain standards of course. One last check whether his mantle sat correctly and he turned to go.

He was a little late, but surely not so much as to offend or seem negligent and ...

A sudden buzzing sound filled the air and for a moment Saint Aignon froze. Then he broke into a run.

 

"I can't believe Saint Aignon assigned so little homework today," Hermione commented to Ron as she reached past him for the soup bowl. "It's not at all like him."

Ron frowned at her as he usually did when thinking hard about something.

"You're right," he concluded finally. "We should do more for our Lord. How about charity? We could start collecting for war orphans."

Hermione stared at him. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Well, it doesn't have to be orphans," Ron conceded. "Do you think the elderly need it more? War victims in general? Injured aurors? St. Mungo's? Maybe it'd be best to give it to the church itself. Surely the Grand Master will know who is most in need."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. "Are you sure Ron?, " she ventured cautiously. "You want to do charity work? What happened to fighting demons and death eater plots?"

"Every little good we do helps to fight evil, Hermione."

Something wasn't right. Positive as this change seemed it just wasn't like Ron. He sounded as if he'd been brainwashed. So far it might not seem dangerous, but it would probably be safest to get him checked out. Surely Madam Pomfrey would know how to restore Ron to his usual annoying self.

Unless of course this was an actual imperius curse. As far as Hermione knew that could only be treated in St. Mungo's and required an extended stay in the hospital. That would probably cause Ron to fall so far behind in his classes that he'd have to repeat the year. After all he was already struggling in several subjects. He'd never catch up after a month of missed classes.

No, Hermione forced herself to stay calm, there was no reason to think this was imperius. Who'd want to imperio Ron out of all the students at Hogwarts? Surely whoever could get their hands on Ron would also be able to get to someone more competent or likely to overhear secrets. Harry or Neville for example. It was probably just the result of another magical accident. Ron was just the type to mess with personality altering magic and test it on himself.

"Why don't we go up to the hospital wing and see Madam Pomfrey," she suggested.

"Oh, that's a brilliant idea," Ron beamed at her. "We can help tend the sick, wash out bedpans ... What's that sound?"

There was a strange buzzing in her ears as if a large fly were circling around her head, but there was no insect to be seen and clearly she and Ron weren't the only ones affected. People were looking around everywhere in the great hall. Even over at the Syltherin table Draco Malfoy was covering his ears with his hands trying to get rid of the annoying sound.

Her next thought was an out of tune radio, but everybody knew radios didn't work at Hogwarts and who'd be stupid enough to turn one on in the great hall right under the noses of the teachers?

"Maybe it's some sort of spell?" she suggested.

"An attack?" Ron gasped sounding a lot more like his normal self.

"Or some kind of alert or timer," she decided. "Perhaps the house elves set the spell to alert them when the food is ready and forgot to limit the sound to the kitchens."

She'd almost convinced herself that it was completely harmless when the side door slammed open and Saint Aignon burst in panting.

"Quick," the Templar shouted. "Get the students to the common rooms! Activate the defences! We're under attack!"

 

Too late Sir Fulko realised that he'd made a mistake. He should have manually activated Hogwarts' alarms instead of rushing into the great hall and yelling out his warning in blind haste. The teachers already inside would have known to execute the agreed upon and well rehearsed emergency procedures at the sound of the alarm and quickly and efficiently evacuated the students.

Now that he'd caused the children to panic however their commands were being ignored as the entire student body rushed blindly for the doors screaming and crying. Sir Fulko barely managed to press himself against the wall next to the door he'd entered through in time to avoid being run over and trampled underfoot.

A few metres away, but unreachable against the stream of running and pushing bodies, he saw Minerva McGonagall attempting to physically arrange random students into orderly lines. Hopefully she'd at least be able to get the first years to stay in larger groups where they'd be less likely to be overlooked and crushed between the taller students.

If only the aurors posted by the main door had decided to help her they might have made a difference, but they'd rushed outside to protect the castle in accordance with the usual emergency plan.

Professor Sprout was shouting uselessly to watch out, her fear for the children too obvious to do anything other than feed the panic while Sybil Trellawney was clinging to her chair shrieking about death and destruction. Above her the headmaster had climbed onto the head table and amplifying his voice with a sonorus charm was ordering the students to assemble by house and year. If only he'd done that before the rush for the doors had started, it might have saved the day, but by now it was too late and nobody was listening.

Sir Fulko wondered vaguely where Filius Flitwick was, but of course the Charms teacher was too short to be seen in the mass of students. Hopefully he was still standing. Where the hell was Severus Snape, though? If anyone on Hogwarts' staff was able to control a panicked mob, it had to be the Potions Master. Alas it looked as if he'd skipped the meal.

Saint Aignon clung to the wall sending silent prayers to God and every saint that came to his mind that the students would reach their common rooms safely or at least with only minor injuries and that the forces they currently had outside the castle would be enough to hold back the enemy until the staff could organise themselves enough to provide backup.

 

"Um ... Sir?" Auror apprentice Nymphadora Tonks addressed Auror Shacklebolt without taking her eyes or wand off the empty road that led towards the gates of Hogwarts.

Shacklebolt had to give her credit for obeying regulations despite her obvious confusion.

"Yes, Apprentice Tonks?"

"Er ... What do we do now?"

Auror Shacklebolt sighed and leaned his back against the gate. "For the moment, we wait and keep an eye on the path and forest. Maybe the death eaters are assembling just out of sight."

On the path nothing moved except a shadow that crossed a patch of sunlight as a cloud drifted past. A raven or crow cawed in the forest. A cat stalked though the snow towards the trees probably in search of small rodents. There was no sign of anything larger moving in the forest, no sound of spells being exchanged. No alarm flare from any of the other aurors positioned around the castle.

The apprentice stared out at the peaceful landscape for another minute before asking: "Do you really think they're out there?"

Shacklebolt cast a quick look up at the boar sculpture on top of the pillar to his left. It remained still as a statue. "If so, they haven’t set off the perimeter alerts and I've never seen a large force sneak past an alarm system as complex as Hogwarts' without triggering at least one of them in all my years on the force. Nor are they good at assembling quietly. We can't let our guard down, though."

"You think its just a small group then," Tonks summed up visibly relaxing. There weren't enough of them posted here to deal with Voldemort's entire army and even the apprentice knew it.

"Most likely," he confirmed. "Never take anything for granted, though. Dark wizards are just full of surprises."

Tonks nodded eagerly.

"And keep a good eye on the forest," he recommended. "The smaller the force, the less likely they are to attempt to rush the gate. They might try to sneak past us."

Tonks nodded again and let her eyes wander up and down the fence, but there was nothing to be seen there either. Shacklebolt secretly started to count the metal spikes on top of the fence.

 

The Water Lady had been surprisingly agreeable and had assured them that her subjects were nobody's hired killers even if one of them had required a reminder of that fact. Raven had not asked what exactly she had done to Dustcloud's unfortunate tool. Instead they'd thanked the Lady, hunted down some dinner and were now on the way back to Hogwarts much earlier than he'd expected. Yes, things were going really well for them for once.

"What are they doing out here?" Graypony asked suddenly nodding towards the gate.

Raven didn't see what he meant at first, but as they came closer he noticed the two figures as well. "Students?" he asked. "They shouldn't be outside the grounds." Though these two were only just. "They aren't our kittens."

"Not students," Greypony informed him. "They're wearing Auror uniforms."

His eyes were better than Raven's.

"Aurors? But that means ..." Raven broke into a run.

Though Aurors were posted at the gates during the day once everybody had returned to the castle for dinner they only guarded the school's doors. From the inside during the winter months. If they were out here now the school was either expecting an attack or a student had gone missing.

"Hold!" the Aurors exclaimed almost simultaneously and pointed their wands at them.

Raven and Greypony slowed down, but didn't stop. "It's us, Kingsley. We're just returning from the village. What's going on?"

"Severus. Thank God," Auror Shacklebolt sighed with relief. "There was an alarm. Well, at least Saint Aignon said it was an alarm. It wasn't one I've ever heard before. Some strange buzzing sound, but we never saw any enemy and about a minute ago it stopped. We ... um ... Well, I think it might have been a false alarm, but we can't let down our guard on an assumption."

Severus nodded. "I'll see what I can find out."

Hogwarts did not have an alarm that sounded like a permanent buzzing. They were simple enough to cast, but could get rather annoying and even distracting, if left to go on for more than a minute or so. If it had been Saint Aignon that had identified it as an alarm, though, it might have been added by the Templars. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Maybe his best course of action was to find the Templar and demand an explanation. Under the circumstances surely that wouldn't be interpreted as lack of respect for the church. As head of Slytherin he had a right and duty to be informed about any security issues in the school.

Now where might that cursed Templar be?

As it turned out Severus didn't have to look very hard. Almost the entire staff of Hogwarts and several Aurors were standing on the castle's steps and right in the middle of the group Albus Dumbledore was looking sternly at his Religion teacher.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Well, the ward only reacts to being crossed," Sir Fulko explained. "It can't differentiate between individuals or directions."

"So every time somebody goes for a walk and steps across your wards they'll start buzzing?" Filius Flitwick said with so much contempt in his usually friendly voice that even proud Saint Aignon wilted a little.

"The ward only reacts to werecats," he explained. "I saw traces of them in the forest yesterday. It was the best I could do in such short time."

"Fulko, we've put out word that we're looking for Catar," Albus reminded him. "Those traces are a good sign. Clearly they've heard we're looking for them and are trying to assess the risk of responding to our call."

"An' now ye've prob'ly scared em off," Hagrid added sulkily.

"So, we've either had one Catar come close to the grounds and leave again, or we have two sitting somewhere near the fence wondering why their ears were buzzing?" Severus sneered at the Templar. "Brilliant investigative work, Sir Saint Aignon. Perhaps you'd better get back to your praying and preaching and leave the spying to the spies."

"I am a knight of the holy order of the Temple!" Saint Aignon barked back at him. "I have a holy mission!"

"Of course you do. A holy mission to read us our Mass and teach our children Religion. That's your area of expertise and I wouldn't dare to intrude," Severus snapped. "I on the other hand have a not at all holy mission to gather information on the enemy and his movements and the Aurors here have a mission to protect the school. Now if we all could trust each other to see to our areas of expertise, maybe we could do so without being distracted by false alarms."

Maybe he shouldn't have said it. Saint Aignon looked murderous, but then realising that he could no longer leave the school without setting off the Catar alert hadn't put him in the best of moods either. How long until somebody realised that he always happened to be absent when the alarm went off?

 

The hospital wing was in chaos. It was built to handle all sorts of injuries, magical or otherwise and it had coped with large numbers of patients during many an outbreak of the flu or dragonpox, but it was not a war hospital.

With flu and dragonpox you got a lot of patients, but they arrived in the hospital wing over the course of several days or even weeks. Even when twenty people came down with the flu on the same day they'd come in one or two at a time and Poppy usually had them dosed with pepper-up and tucked into bed by the time the next new victim required her attention.

To cope with twenty wounded and scared students at once, Poppy thought, she'd need a couple of assistants. Someone to assess the extent of each individual’s injuries quickly and determine which were the most urgent cases, calm and organise the students and maybe heal the most minor scrapes and another to perform first aid on those who had to wait for her attention. Maybe a third to fetch and carry bandages and potions, but then that didn't require any medical training and the house elves were only too willing to help out.

By the time the number of victims approached fourty she realised that even assistants and student nurses wouldn't be good enough, what the situation called for was another nurse or two, maybe a fully trained healer.

And then the second wave started coming in bearing the good news that it had been a false alarm. But if this was the result of a false alarm, whatever was she going to do in case of a real attack? By now she'd probably have battle injuries on her hand and possibly another panic among the students, hysteric children that might need to be physically restrained so they didn't endanger themselves or others ...

She couldn't waste time thinking about it. Back when she'd realised she didn’t have the time to assess each individual student before starting to treat them, she'd decided to assume that the youngest were the ones most likely to have suffered the worst injuries and started on the first years. She'd been halfway through the first wave's second years when the first students of the second wave had come in.

"Flopsy, please check, if there are any more first years I haven't treated yet and tell them to wait over here," she ordered the house elf handing her a neatly rolled up bandage. The second wave had all come in under their own power, though, and apparently been well enough to wait in their dorms until now so maybe she ought to finish the first wave first? But there was no telling them apart anymore as the new arrivals had joined the groups of students already waiting.

"Yes Madam Pomfrey, Miss," Flopsy replied, but her eyes were wide and sorrowful. "We is out of calming draught, Madam Pomfrey, Miss."

And Firewheel was shaking and sobbing almost as badly as poor little Luna Lovegood whose arm had almost been crushed when she'd been shoved into a doorframe in the desperate rush out of the great hall. Not to mention all the other students she hadn't had a chance to look at yet.

"That's too bad, but we'll probably need less of it now that we know it was a false alarm. Luna will calm down on her own once the pain reliever kicks in, won't you, dear?"

Luna sobbed and nodded bravely.

"There bes not much of that left either," Flopsy reported with a worried look at all the waiting students.

That was really grave news. She could treat frightened students with calming words and cheering charms, if she had to and in an emergency a sleeping draught or numbing potion could be used to help a student in pain, but the sleeping draught wasn't healthy and neither should be given to a hysteric patient or one suffering from shock.

"Right," Poppy decided. "You go find those first years, Flopsy. I'll just finish bandaging Miss Lovegood's arm and then we'll let her lie down until the pain reliever kicks in. You won't be able to use the arm for a day or two, but once it stops hurting you can go back to your dorm. Fiona!"

Firewheel started and stared at her wide eyed. She didn't look hurt except for a few scrapes, though and since there was no medicine to give her distraction might be best.

"Be a dear and floo Professor Snape for me, won't you? Ask him to bring me any calming and healing potions he has left in his stores even if they are inferior student work as long as they will have the desired effect. A weak potion is better than nothing."

Firewheel nodded and after a last fearful glance at Luna raced off to the office. For just a moment Poppy worried whether she even knew the difference between floo travelling and floo calling but there was no time for that as with Flopsy busy sorting students she had to find a free bed for Luna herself and then the broken nose and fingers of Mr. Creevey demanded her full attention.

She only vaguely registered Firewheel darting back out of the office and instead of coming to look for Luna as Poppy had expected rushing straight for the door and out into the corridor. There was no time to worry about it now.

"Miss!" Flopsy shrieked at the top of her lungs just as Poppy was about to magically straighten Mr. Creevey's nose back into shape. "Sir bes bleeding to death!"

Poppy dropped Mr. Creevey's chin and jumped up. "Where? Get me blood replenishing potions. Now!"

"Here!" Poppy heard Flopsy's shriek and then a pop as the house elf jumped to the potion stores for the blood replenisher. She hastened in the direction the sounds had come from and luckily the other students parted to let her through.

The Sir was a small Hufflepuff fourth year who was in no condition to explain what had happened to him, but then the very visible footprints on his robes didn't really require an explanation. A quick diagnostic charm revealed internal bleeding. How he'd managed to drag himself to the hospital wing apparently unassisted Poppy had no idea, but there was no friend with him and he obviously hadn't had the strength to get her attention in the chaos around him on his own. Thank God for Flopsy being able to recognise an emergency despite having no medical training. Or thank the Gods, or maybe the elemental spirits Raven occasionally mentioned. Did it actually matter? Thank whatever entity had given her such a capable helper today.

For a while all her attention was focussed on the boy and stabilising him and everybody else faded into the background until finally she was sure that he would survive.

"Shock potion," she requested wishing she had one brewed with garlic. Then she wouldn't have to keep shaking the boy to half consciousness.

"No shock potion left," Flopsy said sadly.

"Didn't Professor Snape send any?" He liked to keep that on hand. Some claimed he needed it for students that fainted in his class, but Poppy suspected that he'd just seen too many order spies return torn up and bleeding. It couldn't hurt to be prepared.

"Professor Snape Sir not send anything Madam Pomfrey, Miss," Flopsy reported shaking her head.

Poppy sighed. Where was Raven? She cast a monitoring spell over her patient instead hoping that it wouldn't go off. Please let him get better on his own! Mr. Creevey still needed his nose fixed and then the rest of the second and maybe some first years needed her attention.

She was just dabbing some anti-bruising salve onto the next second year's eye when the door opened and Raven finally arrived carrying a motionless sixth or seventh year girl and followed by Firewheel and three Slytherin students all carrying potions.

"Where ..." Poppy started, but then she realised just how pale and still the girl in his arms looked. "Is she ..."

"As far as I can tell she merely fainted," Raven explained. "Not that surprising considering the circumstances, but I'd prefer, if you have a look at her as well. Where do you want the potions? I'm afraid I used up most of the calming draught and anti-bruise on the Slytherins."

"You ..." she gasped only now noticing Rascal's bandaged hand. "You've been treating them!"

Raven glared at her. "I may not be a trained nurse, but I know as well as any pathetic little housewitch and mother how to stop a nosebleed or vanish a bruise. Not every little scrape requires a healer and under the circumstances I thought you'd be grateful I kept them from running in your door over scuffed toes and bent nails."

Judging from the bandage and potions he'd used up he'd done more than that, but then bandaging spells were taught in every simple first aid course and a Potions Master had to know his healing potions. With his past it shouldn't surprise her that he'd apparently taken the time to learn first aid at some point. Hell, some of the other teachers probably had as well, just to be prepared for any student accidents that might occur in their classes.

"Right, put the girl on a bed, if you're sure she isn't in any immediate danger and I'll see to her later. Then," She pointed at the bed she'd left the Hufflepuff boy in. "He needs a shock-potion, if you have any and if you could send the ones with the most urgent looking injuries to the front of the line, ..."

Raven turned out to be an efficient assistant, though his intimidating presence didn't exactly help the lack of calming draught. Then again he didn't spread panic either, moving through the room calmly and quickly and assessing the students' conditions with diagnostic charms that Poppy hadn't expected to be taught in first aid courses. Well, wherever he'd learned them they assured that she really did get the worst cases sent to the front and not just the worst looking ones. There was little back talking or whining when he told a student that his injuries could wait. One just didn't disobey Professor Snape.

Relieved to finally have someone competent in charge of sorting the students Poppy concentrated on healing the students he sent to her and only looked up again when she heard Raven snap: "And get me a clean towel. This absolutely won't do."

Apparently he'd moved on to cleaning and bandaging wounds again and this one really didn't look like an amateur should be fooling around with it.

"Severus ..."

"I'm merely stopping the bleeding, Poppy," he snapped. "Then you can unpack and treat them properly whenever you're done with the more urgent cases."

She really did need the help, but the consequences of a single miscast medical spell could be terrible.

"If you're ever in any doubt you can cast the spell ..."

"I won't even fetch that student out of the line. I know my limits, Poppy."

"You're not trained for this and it's delicate work," she tried to explain.

"I might not be trained, but I've had enough practise with battlefield patch up magic," he returned. "This is similar, though less bloody."

Oh, nothing to do with student emergencies at all then. On second thought she wouldn't put it past Voldemort to insist that his potions expert act as healer rather than allow injured death eaters to seek help at St. Mungo's where they ran the risk of discovery. Hopefully there was a trained healer among the death eaters somewhere, though and Raven really had done no more than bind wounds to keep until the patient could be transferred to a field hospital.

 

Sir Fulko spent the next morning removing all his hastily cast alarms. The headmaster had insisted on cancelling all Religion classes until he had fixed his mistake, much to the joy of his students, those ungrateful brats.

Then again almost a quarter of the student body had been sporting either bandages or bruises at breakfast so maybe it was more a feeling of their injuries receiving just punishment than a dislike of Religion itself.

Feeling guilty and disapproved of he'd excused himself early from breakfast and decided to skip lunch. This, he thought, had to be what Ron Weasley felt like whenever another of his harebrained plans ended in disaster and detention. At least the headmaster hadn't come along to supervise him like a delinquent student. He wasn't sure he could have handled the shame of that.

Then again he also felt under-appreciated. Yes, so he had neglected to inform people and acted too hastily, but he'd only had the best of intentions and he still thought that the school required anti-Catar wards. Maybe something a little more advanced than the spells he'd used, yes, definitely something less showy, but the order ought to be aware of any dark creatures moving around this close to its headquarters.

Why both Lupin and Snape had been in favour of removing the wards without any replacements he really didn't understand. How could they be so careless when the students' lives and souls might be threatened, if the werecats' intentions were less friendly than Dumbledore hoped?

Was this too a feeling Ron was familiar with? This terrible fear that he was the only one who saw a deadly danger and nobody would take him seriously? He was a fully trained knight of the holy order of the Temple and a teacher in the name of God! He should not be treated like a lackwit student!

Besides, now his spare mantle was as filthy as the other one.

It was a very wet and grumpy Templar that reported to Albus Dumbledore right after the end of lunch break.

"I have removed all my spells as you requested, but I feel I should remind you that we are now once again without any protection against a werecat attack from the forest. I recommend that you replace my wards with something more suitable as soon as possible."

Albus Dumbledore smiled benignly and nodded. "Thank you, Fulko. I am aware of your concern, but please remember to bring any security issues to my attention rather than take action yourself from now on."

"Of course, headmaster," Sir Fulko forced out between clenched teeth. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I ought to take a bath and change before my next class."

"Indeed, we don't want you to catch a cold after all," Dumbledore agreed with his usual annoying twinkle. This was not an amusing matter! "One thing before you go, though."

"Yes?" He turned around already at the door and glared at the headmaster.

"In the interest of the continued peaceful coexistence of the staff I suggest that you stay out of Madam Pomfrey's way for a few days. I hear that she isn't too pleased with you right now."

"Isn't too pleased?" Sir Fulko repeated slightly confused.

"Well, I've been told that she has rather unfavourably compared your effect on the students' health to that of playing Quidditch today."


End file.
